16 Again
by SouthernChickie
Summary: *Now Complete* My take on Richiefic's 'I Never Liked Art in High School.' Duncan's great idea to put Richie back in school brings up some unexpected problems. Warning: sensitive topic now being added.
1. ch 1

Disclaimers: Okay, besides the fact that I don't own HL, I don't own this story or at least the first section of it. This is based on the story "I Never Liked Art In High School" by Richiefic. (Who has given me permission to use it. Thank you!) The first section of this story is taken almost directly from the first two chapters of her story. I have added and deleted a few lines here and there to make it fit my plot and style more. After that it goes into what popped into my head while reading Richiefic's story.  
  
"Admit it, you didn't expect her to be so young," Duncan smiled.  
  
"Well, when Richie said his old foster mother was coming over I expected someone older," Tessa admitted. "I can't believe her eldest daughter is eighteen, she's not old enough to be Richie's mother."  
  
"I guess she married young," Duncan shrugged. "Richie said she has two other daughters besides Maria."  
  
"Um, guys?" Richie appeared in the doorway of the office. "Teresa has to get going now," he said gesturing to the young woman standing beside him.  
  
"You are welcome to stay longer," Tessa offered.  
  
"Oh. No thank you," Teresa smiled. "The girls are at their Aunt's and I don't want to be too late in picking them up."  
  
"Let me show you out," Duncan offered.  
  
"I got it, Mac," Richie insisted hastily.  
  
"You know," Teresa smiled. "I never could have imagined Richie working in a place like this."  
  
"I never liked art in High School," Richie explained.  
  
"Name one subject you did like," Duncan chuckled.  
  
"Biology," he said with a wicked grin.  
  
Duncan rolled his eyes. "Somehow I knew that."  
  
"You knew Richie in High School?" Teresa frowned.  
  
"No. He knew Richie after he had dropped outta High School because of demented Art teachers and the like," Richie answered. "You ready? I'll go with you to get Maria, Sammie, and Kelli. I'm dying to see them again." He gestured he toward the door.  
  
"So how old were you when you first met Duncan?" Teresa enquired.  
  
"It's only been a few weeks." Richie evaded her question as he led her out of the Antique store. Duncan frowned.  
  
. . . . . .  
  
Duncan was waiting for Richie when he returned from seeing Teresa home. "Teresa and everyone get home safely?"  
  
Richie stopped dead at his casual tone and Duncan bit back a grin. Now he knew something was up and Richie knew that he knew. This could be interesting.  
  
"Yeah. Um, I'm really tired. I think I'll turn in." Richie turned to head towards his room.  
  
"Sure. Just answer me one question first?"  
  
Richie turned back, his hands spread wide. "Mac! Teresa's like my Mom. There's nothing going on there."  
  
Duncan had to give him points for deflection. The lad was good.  
  
"Not that. When we met. It wasn't until tonight that I realized that I've never asked you how old you are. Powell led me to believe that you were seventeen."  
  
"Yeah. Right." Richie nodded. . . a little too enthusiastically. "Night Mac."  
  
"Hold on. Right that you are seventeen or right that I was led to believe it?" Duncan demanded.  
  
"Uh huh," Richie agreed. "See you in the morning."  
  
Duncan made a mental note never to introduce Richie to Amanda.  
  
"Richie, are you or are you not seventeen?" Duncan demanded.  
  
"Yes," Richie protested. "Geez Mac, how many more times?"  
  
Or Fitzcairn.  
  
"Richard Ryan. On ye honor are ye seventeen years old?" Duncan demanded, leaving no room for doubt.  
  
"Um. . . kinda?" Richie offered shakily.  
  
Duncan's eyes narrowed. "What do you mean - 'kinda'?"  
  
"Well my ID says I am 21," Richie shrugged. Duncan glared at him. "What? You think Immortals are the only people who know how to fake stuff?"  
  
"You mean you aren't seventeen?" Duncan asked dryly.  
  
"Everyone is seventeen once Mac, even you." Richie risked a grin.  
  
"Richie," Duncan warned.  
  
"Alright." Richie waved a placating hand. "I wasn't technically seventeen when Powell arrested me, okay?"  
  
"How old were you - technically?"  
  
"I don't know," Richie shrugged. "Well I don't!" he protested at Duncan's disbelieving glare. "It's not like anyone knows exactly when my birthday is or anything."  
  
"It was the 1970's Richie, not the Dark Ages," Duncan pointed out. "People kept records."  
  
"Look I wanted out, okay?"  
  
"Out of what?" Duncan frowned.  
  
"You know. . . the system." Richie waved a hand.  
  
"You forged your records?" Duncan could hardly believe what he was hearing.  
  
"I just changed a few figures," Richie protested. "No biggie."  
  
"Richie. You were a minor. There are laws about minors."  
  
"So once I'm not a minor everything is cool," Richie shrugged.  
  
"Richie, what were you thinking? At eighteen you could go to jail!"  
  
"Yeah well, it was a risk worth taking," Richie shot back bitterly. "At eighteen you are also a free agent."  
  
"How old?" Duncan demanded.  
  
"Does it really matter? Your driver's license says you are 34 but we both know it's just a piece of paper to keep the powers that be happy."  
  
Duncan sighed. He'd already learnt the hard way that when he set his mind to it Richie gave new meaning to the concept of stubborn. He decided to change tactics. "How did you do it?" he asked casually.  
  
"I skipped a grade in Junior High," Richie shrugged. "After a while it was easy to convince people that they'd made the mistake. It wasn't like anyone ever actually expected me to be good at anything."  
  
"You told me you were bright." Duncan chuckled at the understatement.  
  
Richie smiled. "That was a good year. I thought . . ." he shook his head. "It's stupid," he said softly.  
  
"What happened?" Duncan asked gently.  
  
"New social worker." Richie looked away. "There was just me, Teresa, her Mom and the girls. The new lady figured I needed a male role model. So I had to move," he finished bitterly.  
  
"I'm sorry." Duncan said sympathetically. "That must have been hard."  
  
"You think?" Richie scoffed. "Not nearly as hard as when Mr. Male Role Model decided . . ." he stopped.  
  
"Rich?"  
  
"Doesn't matter." Richie turned away.  
  
Duncan stopped him with a hand on his shoulder. Richie turned back around but gently shrugged Duncan's hand away. Duncan frowned; it would be a lot easier to get Richie to trust him if he could touch him. "Richie, it matters. If you want to talk . . ."  
  
"Yeah." Richie gave him a shaky smile. "Thanks, Mac. But I really am tired. I think I'll just go to bed now."  
  
"OK," Duncan nodded. "This is pretty late for a sixteen year old to be up on a school night anyway."  
  
"Aw hell." Richie slapped his hand against his forehead when he realized what he had done. "I'll be seventeen in two weeks OK?"  
  
"Uh huh," Duncan nodded. "You could just have told me you know."  
  
Richie suddenly looked weary. "Do I still have a job?"  
  
"Yes, Richie, you still have a job," Duncan reassured him.  
  
"Good." Richie turned around, then stopped. "You're not going to do anything are you?"  
  
"Such as?" Duncan asked.  
  
"With you, Mac, I have no idea," Richie admitted wearily. "Just anything. You know its a lot less hassle for you if I'm eighteen, no social workers or paperwork to bother with."  
  
"Maybe you are worth the bother," Duncan smiled.  
  
"Mac," Richie said warily. "What are you thinking?"  
  
"Go to bed, Rich." Duncan reached out to ruffle his hair, but Richie stepped away. Duncan put his hand back down. "We'll talk about it in the morning." He turned towards his own room.  
  
"You're not, like, going to make me go back to school or anything are you?" Richie called after him.  
  
"We'll talk about it," Duncan called back over his shoulder.  
  
"That's a yes." Richie muttered.  
  
. . . . . .  
  
Richie rubbed his eyes as he wandered into the kitchen. "Morning Tessa," he greeted her as he reached up to get a bowl from the cupboard.  
  
"Good morning Richie." Tessa looked him up and down and clicked her tongue.  
  
"What?" Richie asked looking down at himself trying to find the source of her disapproval.  
  
"It won't do," Tessa sniffed. "It is far from good enough."  
  
"Well, I can go change if you want, but you bought me this shirt," Richie pointed out.  
  
"Not your clothes." Tessa rolled her eyes as if such a topic had never occurred to her before, rather than being the cause of heated debate in recent weeks. "Those people. You are so thin, and pale, and not so tall," she said looking the gangly mop-top boy up and down.  
  
"You know, I have self-image issues as it is," Richie complained.  
  
"How could they not see that you are just a boy?" Tessa demanded.  
  
"Ah," Richie winced. "Mac told you."  
  
"Yes, Duncan told me," Tessa replied, taking the bowl out of his hands. "I cannot imagine why you would do such a foolish thing, Richie. You know what would happen if you were caught and tried as an adult?"  
  
"Um. . . Tess?" Richie gestured to the bowl that she was putting back in the cupboard. "I was going to have cereal."  
  
"I will make you a proper breakfast." Tessa decided. "You should not be eating that stuff, it is nothing but sugar."  
  
"Okaay." Richie drawled raising a brow. "Can I at least have some coffee while I'm waiting?"  
  
Tessa frowned as she opened the refrigerator. "Caffeine is really not so good for you, you know. It stunts your growth. Why don't you have some juice instead?"  
  
"Cigs can kill you, but you smoke them," Richie said defensively leaning on the counter.  
  
Tessa shook her head. "That's different. I'm trying to give up and besides, I'm .."  
  
"Older than me?" Richie crossed his arms. "I was old enough to have coffee yesterday. Today. . . I'm a day older."  
  
Tessa looked up at him. "I'm being ridiculous aren't I?" she smiled.  
  
"Actually," Richie smiled back. "I think it's kind of nice. Just so long as you've stopped now. You have stopped now, right?"  
  
"Well," Tessa's eyes twinkled, "Why don't you put on the coffee and I'll make us all a nice breakfast?"  
  
"That's a deal," Richie grinned. "Pancakes?" he asked hopefully.  
  
"With blueberries," she assured him.  
  
. . . . . .  
  
"You want to do what?" Richie hastily swallowed his mouthful of pancake.  
  
"Tessa and I talked about it last night and we decided we wanted to register as your foster parents," Duncan repeated.  
  
"We will go to the judge and we will sign the papers and make it all legal," Tessa smiled.  
  
"But you guys would have to be married," Richie pointed out.  
  
"Not necessarily," Duncan contradicted. "When its an older child, or some one who has. . . had trouble settling. . . in the past. They are generally more flexible."  
  
"Besides, we have a very good lawyer," Tessa put in.  
  
"You know the paperwork alone takes forever." Richie shook his head. "I'd probably be 18 before they got it all sorted out."  
  
"I've had a little practice with paperwork," Duncan smiled. "I'm sure it won't be a problem."  
  
"You think?" Richie scowled. "You have no idea how much of it there is. You would have to build a whole new room onto this place just to have somewhere to put it all."  
  
"Maybe we could put in another bathroom at the same time," Tessa suggested.  
  
"Another one?" Duncan rolled his eyes. "We already have three."  
  
"The shower in the living room doesn't count." She paused. "Except on very special occasions."  
  
"Um. If you guys want to .. you know .. we can continue this some other time." Richie started to stand up.  
  
"Sit down, Rich," Duncan laughed. "I'm sure we can contain ourselves for a few minutes."  
  
"Surely we are not that bad," Tessa added.  
  
"Do you want my honest opinion?" Richie smirked.  
  
"No!" Tessa and Duncan chorused.  
  
"Seriously, Richie." Duncan got back to the topic in hand. "It's not so different to what we were going to do before. You living here and working in the store. Except you could get your motorcycle license, maybe even graduate."  
  
"I could do all those things anyway. You could just make me the papers." Richie looked at Duncan.  
  
"But this way it would be legal."  
  
"And no one will be able to take you away from us," Tessa added softly.  
  
"You couldn't do it." Richie shook his head. "It would be too dangerous."  
  
"I don't know," Duncan teased. "You've only broken one vase so far and we can always up the insurance."  
  
"Not for me, for you. They come to the house, you know." Richie waved his fork. "What if someone like Slan drops in unannounced?"  
  
"Things aren't usually that dramatic," Duncan sighed. "Most challengers will agree a less public time and place. It's not really in anyone's best interest to attract attention."  
  
"Exactly," Richie nodded. "You'd have to answer this whole barrage of questions about your favorite childhood games and stuff. I don't think playing hunt the Haggis is going to cut it, do you?"  
  
"You do know that a Haggis isn't a real creature don't you?" Duncan quirked a brow. Richie scowled. "Just checking." Duncan smirked.  
  
"It isn't?" Tessa frowned.  
  
"Nope," Duncan started to nibble on her ear.  
  
"And they send people around to check up on you without warning," Richie cut in. "What if you were . . . otherwise engaged?"  
  
"Not in the middle of the day." Tessa objected loftily.  
  
"Well. Not very often anyway." Duncan amended with a grin. "Relax Richie. Whatever the problems are we will sort them out together. As a family."  
  
"That is what you want, isn't it?" Tessa enquired gently. Richie looked down at his plate.  
  
"Rich?" Duncan sat up a bit straighter. "Hey. C'mon Tough Guy, say something."  
  
"No," Richie said quietly. "I don't want you to do this. Please. Just. . .don't. Okay?" 


	2. ch 2

Richie flopped down on his bed after dinner and turned on his TV. Things had been very awkward that day at the store. All of a sudden Tessa had decided to leave all the 'heavy lifting' to Duncan. Richie had been stuck with more mundane tasks like collapsing boxes, sweeping, dusting and filing. Tessa checked in on him every hour or so and insisted on making lunch. All he had been planning on was a sandwich, but he ended up with a grilled cheese, tomato soup, and a freshly baked brownie. He flipped the channels until he found a sitcom re-run and settled down to watch it. Half way into the show there was a knock at his door.  
  
"Uh," he grunted permission to enter.  
  
Duncan opened the door and stepped in. "Bed," he said.  
  
Richie looked at the clock and back at Duncan. "Its not even ten thirty."  
  
"And you're not even seventeen."  
  
"So?"  
  
"So it's time for bed."  
  
"Mac, you have got to be kidding me."  
  
"Nope." Duncan walked over and turned off the TV. Richie rolled his eyes and turned it back on with the remote controller.  
  
"No."  
  
"Richie, bed." Duncan turned to TV off again.  
  
"Mac, no." Richie turned it back on.  
  
Smiling Duncan reached down and unplugged the TV. "You can have this back later. Right now, it's time for bed." Richie's jaw dropped as Duncan picked up the small TV and headed for the door. "Good night, Richie."  
  
Richie watched him leave. After a second he got up to follow. "Mac, what the hell is up with you? You never cared how late I stayed up before as long as I was up in time to open the store."  
  
"Things are different now."  
  
"No they're not," Richie insisted. "I am the same guy. There is nothing different about me. The only difference is what you know about me."  
  
"And now that I know, things are different."  
  
Richie set his jaw and crossed his arms. "You're being unreasonable."  
  
"You're being immature," Duncan responded.  
  
"Mac, c'mon."  
  
"Richie, don't fight me on this, just go to bed. We'll talk in the morning."  
  
Richie's eyes narrowed. "Talk about bed times in the morning? I don't think so. We settle this now."  
  
"Fine, you need to start going to bed at a reasonable hour for when you start school next week."  
  
Richie's eyes widened. "Ex-ex-excuse me?" he stuttered.  
  
"You heard me."  
  
"Mac, no. I'm not going to school."  
  
"Of course you are, don't be ridiculous," Tessa said from the hallway apparently having heard the argument. "Now, its time for bed," she added with a smile.  
  
Richie looked from Tessa to Duncan and slumped his shoulder in defeat. "I can't believe this," he grumbled turning to go to his room.  
  
As soon as his door closed Tessa wagged her finger at Duncan. "You said we would tell him together," she said accusingly.  
  
"He didn't give me a choice," Duncan insisted.  
  
"Now he's going to think we're conspiring against him and it's going to be even harder to get him to cooperate."  
  
"He'll give in, he always does. He's too young to put together a tangible argument," Duncan said with a smile.  
  
Tessa laughed. "Shh, he'll hear you and you'll make it worse," she whispered.  
  
Duncan got up and went to Richie's door. "I bet he's found something to do in there," he said.  
  
"Probably," Tessa agreed.  
  
Duncan opened the door and looked in. To his surprise, Richie was in bed facing away from the door. "Night, Richie," he said softly.  
  
Richie sat up and looked at him. "They're gonna make me move, you know," he said.  
  
"We'll talk about it in the morning," Tessa assured him.  
  
"They always do," he continued. "And if they find out I'm sixteen, I'm in huge trouble. You can't do this."  
  
"Richie, go to sleep. We'll figure something out."  
  
. . . . . .  
  
The next morning Richie entered the kitchen with a scowl on his face. Without a word he grabbed a bowl pored some cereal and settled down to eat it.  
  
"Are you still mad?" Duncan asked with a laugh. Richie didn't say anything, or even look up from his bowl. "This is a real good way to convince us that you shouldn't be treated like the kid you are," he said sarcastically.  
  
Richie looked up. "I'm not a kid."  
  
"Well, whatever you are, you need to go to school. So you need to make a decision." Duncan pulled out a couple brochures and put them in front of Richie.  
  
Richie nearly choked on his cereal. "Private school?"  
  
"Tessa and I were talking about it yesterday and last night. I called around to see who was accepting mid-semester transfers. These are your options."  
  
"One, I'm not going to school. And two, if I was private school is out of the question," Richie informed him.  
  
"One, you're going to school. You want to work; you go. Two, these are your options," Duncan told him forcefully.  
  
Richie looked to Tessa for help. "We can help you decide if you like," she offered.  
  
"You guys, no," Richie begged.  
  
"You're going. You don't pick a school, I'll pick one for you," Duncan said. Richie just looked at him. "Fine," Duncan collected the brochures. "I'll tell you tonight."  
  
"Mac," Richie started to protest.  
  
"Richie be quiet. This is our compromise. We won't mention to anyone how old you are for real, but you go to school and graduate. You don't do that; we call the judge, set up a hearing, go to court, and they can force you to go. Face facts, you're going back to school no matter what you say."  
  
. . . . . .  
  
Four days later, Monday, Richie once again set his face in a scowl as he went into the kitchen for breakfast.  
  
"My, don't you look nice," Tessa said as he slumped into his chair at the table.  
  
Richie glared up at her. "Shut up."  
  
"Is that anyway to talk to your mother?" Duncan teased putting a glass of juice in front of him.  
  
"This is stupid," Richie answered. "Nobody's going to believe this. It's all going to blow up in our faces and I'm going to get shipped off to military school and it's all going to be your fault."  
  
"Is it my fault you forged your records?"  
  
"And I suppose just making me into a whole 'nother person and lying to nuns and priests is going to make it all better."  
  
"Eat," Tessa instructed putting a plate of scrambled eggs in front of him. "You don't want to be late on your first day."  
  
"Seeing as not going would count as being late, yeah I do," Richie assured her.  
  
. . . . . .  
  
Duncan pulled to a stop in front of St. Matthew's Academy and looked over at Richie, slumped in the seat next to him. He smiled; Richie did look awkward in the school uniform. A blazer and tie seemed wrong on a boy whose favorite pair of jeans were full of holes and stained.  
  
"Better get going," Duncan told him gently.  
  
Richie looked at him with an expression that would reduce any mother to tears. "Mac, c'mon, please?" he begged pitifully one last time fully aware that it wasn't going to work.  
  
"Sorry, you have to go," Duncan assured him. Richie's eyes fell. "Hey, it's not going to be all that bad. I'm sure you'll make plenty of friends."  
  
"Yeah, I'm sure me and those guys have a lot in common," Richie mumbled looking at the circle of boys standing on the stairs.  
  
"Sure you do. I know you're not the only kid in Seacouver who likes basketball, roller-blading, girls, and Baywatch. Just because those kids grew up with more money than you doesn't make you any different," Duncan assured him becoming aware of Richie's true fear. "You're just like them: a guy whose parents are making him go to school because it will make him a better person. And that girl's already staring at you," he added spotting a brunette trying to nonchalantly get a better view of Richie around her friends. "You better get in there, class is about to start and you still need to meet with the headmaster. You remember how to get to his office?" Tessa and Richie had met with him the Friday before to get Richie enrolled.  
  
Richie sighed heavily and opened the door. "Yeah, I remember."  
  
"I'll see you when you get home, okay?"  
  
"Yeah, see ya," Richie said softly getting out.  
  
"Are you sure you don't want someone to pick you up?" Duncan asked finding very difficult all of a sudden to force Richie to go to school.  
  
"Yeah, I'm fine." Richie's pitiful tone, face, and slumped shoulder weren't helping.  
  
"Okay, bye."  
  
"Bye." Richie closed the door and walked past the boys up the steps and into the building. He navigated his way through the halls and into the office.  
  
"May I help you?" A nun asked.  
  
"Uh, yeah. I'm Joel MacLeod, I'm supposed to pick up my schedule," Richie said awkwardly, he could lie to anyone, but nuns made him nervous.  
  
"Oh, yes, Mr. MacLeod, I have it right here. If you will wait just a minute Aaron will be here to help you get your books," she said handing Richie a couple papers. "That's you locker and your gym locker combinations and you schedule." She pointed everything out. Richie nodded and looked it all over. "You can take a seat right over there." Richie nodded again and sat down.  
  
A couple minutes later another boy walked in wearing the same maroon blazer with the school crest on the pocket and tie Richie was. He walked straight to Richie and stuck out his hand.  
  
"I'm Aaron Travis," he said with a smile.  
  
"Ric- - Joel MacLeod," Richie answered giving Aaron's hand a half-hearted shake.  
  
"Well, c'mon lets get this over with," Aaron said enthusiastically gesturing for Richie to follow him. "First days suck. I've been going here for five years and I still hate the first day," Aaron continued leading Richie down the hall. "But don't worry, St. Matt's isn't that bad, it's one of the better schools around here." Richie didn't answer. "So, you a military brat?" he asked indicating the Army messenger bag Richie had slung on his left shoulder and across his chest.  
  
"No, just liked it. If I'm gonna be stuck in this get-up I want something that's a little more me."  
  
"I hear ya. Some of the jerks around here. . . well, with uniforms you can really tell a guy by his shoes and back-pack." He stopped and examined Richie's scuffed boots. "For instance, you are not one of those Richie Rich types. You are a fun loving trouble oriented guy, aren't ya?"  
  
"Yeah, I guess," Richie answered with a grin starting to warm up to this Aaron Travis guy. "What about you?"  
  
"I'm your type of guy," Aaron said returning Richie's grin. "You stick with me, I'll tell you who to stay away from." They rounded the corner and were confronted with a large group of upper classmen crowding around a bulletin board. "Be calm, they can smell fear," Aaron whispered skirting the gathering. Richie followed accidentally bumping into a girl who seemed to have re-hemmed her school shirt.  
  
"Hey!" she squealed turning to face him.  
  
"Excuse me," he said politely and started to walk away, a strong hand grabbed his shoulder and turned him around.  
  
"Watch where you're going," a large senior spat at him.  
  
"I'll be more careful next time," Richie assured him smugly trying to leave again.  
  
"What did you say?" the senior said keeping his grip.  
  
"Lego," Richie demanded putting his hand on the senior's.  
  
"Or what? You gonna call daddy's lawyer?"  
  
Richie thrust out his chin and fixed a cold glare on him. "Not quite."  
  
"Are you threatening me?"  
  
"You first," Richie offered.  
  
"Teacher!" someone warned and the senior immediately let go of Richie.  
  
"You better watch your back, kid," he warned walking away.  
  
"Joel, come on," Aaron pulled on Richie's arm and dragged him away. "You need to steer clear of that guy. He's nothing but trouble."  
  
"He's nothing but an ass," Richie corrected following Aaron into the book room.  
  
"A very large ass," Aaron reminded him. "Let me see your schedule."  
  
. . . . . .  
  
"Hey! How did the first day go?" Tessa asked excitedly as Richie shuffled in through the back door to her workshop.  
  
"Excruciating."  
  
"That bad, huh?" Tessa asked with a laugh. Richie scowled at her. "Don't worry, I'm sure tomorrow will be better."  
  
"Tomorrow? You can't honestly expect me to go back tomorrow," Richie groaned.  
  
"Of course I can. We made a deal."  
  
"No, you guys made a deal. I'm got blackmailed."  
  
"Either way, you're going tomorrow and the next day and so on and so forth until you graduate."  
  
Richie made a face. "We'll see."  
  
"Hey, you're back!" Duncan greeted him entering the workshop. "How'd it go?"  
  
"Excruciating," Tessa answered dramatically for Richie flashing Duncan a grin.  
  
"This isn't funny you guys," Richie whined. "You can't do this to me!"  
  
"Of course we can. As far as the school is concerned, Joel, we are your parents. We've earned the right to torture you. There's nothing you can do about it," Duncan assured him with a grin. "Do you have any homework?"  
  
"No," Richie lied.  
  
"Why don't I believe you?"  
  
"Iduno, you never believe me," he shrugged. Duncan fixed him with a calculating stare. "What? I don't." Duncan continued the look and Tessa raised her eyebrows.  
  
"The headmaster said that sophomores have homework every night," she reminded him.  
  
Richie thought for a minute. The headmaster was Father Perry, a priest; priests don't lie. "Fine, I have a little, alright?" he sighed.  
  
"Then you better get at it," Duncan told him.  
  
"Can't I do something down here first? I'll do homework after dinner, I swear."  
  
"You want to work?" Tessa asked.  
  
"Not really, but it beats history."  
  
"No deal," Duncan told him. "Homework first, then you can work."  
  
"But you'll be closed by the time I get done," Richie insisted.  
  
"That's the great thing about living upstairs, it doesn't matter what time it is when you get done. You can clean everything up after dinner."  
  
Seeing that once again he had been defeated, Richie sighed heavily and went upstairs to do his homework.  
  
"We need to discuss these things before one of us takes over," Tessa said. "Homework right after school? I think he should get at least an hour to relax first. You've never been to school, you don't know how stressful it can be."  
  
"Fine," Duncan consented. "But no working until all his homework is done, Saturdays included."  
  
"Okay," Tessa nodded. "In bed by ten thirty school nights."  
  
"Of course."  
  
"Midnight weekends."  
  
"Eleven," Duncan challenged.  
  
"Eleven thirty, unless we both agree to an exception."  
  
"Okay. . . did we miss anything?"  
  
"Consequences," Tessa added. "Can we ground him?"  
  
"Why not? But what for?"  
  
"Not doing his homework?" she offered. "Staying up late. . . skipping, which will happen."  
  
"No doubt. Grades? What are the standards? A's?"  
  
"Nothing below a C. Some classes are hard. As long as he's doing the work he should be okay."  
  
"C+."  
  
Tessa nodded. "Deal. Now, is that everything?"  
  
"How about what I think?" Richie asked bitterly from the top of the stairs. "Or does that not matter?"  
  
"Richie, calm down we were going to tell you," Duncan said.  
  
"Yeah, tell me. What happened to checking before you made decisions involving me? You used to. Am I too young for that, too?"  
  
"No," Tessa interjected. "We just needed to have an idea of what we wanted before we brought it up."  
  
"What you wanted. Right, got it," Richie answered obviously not happy with their view on the situation.  
  
"Richie- -"  
  
"I have homework, apparently I gotta be done before ten-thirty," Richie interrupted turning and disappearing back into the apartment forgetting what he had gone back out to ask.  
  
. . . . . .  
  
Over the next week a new set of rules were set. After school Richie had an hour to do whatever he wanted, go out, watch TV, talk on the phone, work in the store. . . but at 5:30 he had to drop whatever he was doing to do his homework. He would take over the kitchen table until he was done or dinner was ready, whichever came first. After dinner he would finish his homework, or if he was already done do some kind of work down in the store. He was in bed at 10:30 weekdays an hour later weekends. Richie slowly and begrudgingly settled into the new routine. The one thing that bothered him most was they began restricting what he ate: no sodas, less sugar more fruit, and they were more insistent that he ate his vegetables. He felt like he was eight all over again. Nobody had ever really told him what to do for a long time; he didn't like that it was starting again now. 


	3. ch 3

"He's such a retard," Geoff Conway scoffed loudly in Richie's direction two weeks later during lunch at school. Richie turned in his chair to glare at him before going back to his hamburger. "Have you heard him read?" Geoff continued to the group of boys sitting around him. "Th-th-th-the." he imitated.  
  
"Shut up," Aaron groaned shooting a sympathetic look at Richie. "Give the guy a break."  
  
"Oh, so the teacher's pet is defending the retard, how cute," Geoff cooed.  
  
"I swear if his nose was any higher in the air he'd poke God in the butt," Aaron mumbled.  
  
"Don't listen to him, Joel," Natalie, the girl Duncan had noticed staring at Richie when he dropped him off the first day, said patting his arm. "I think it's cute."  
  
"Did you hear that?" Geoff chortled. "She thinks it's cute that the 'tard can't read!" all his friends started laughing. Geoff, Natalie and Richie were all in the same English class. The week before Richie had been called on to read aloud; he wasn't very good at it. Geoff had been making fun of him ever since.  
  
"He just stutters," Natalie shot back.  
  
"Nat, shut up," Richie groaned. "You're just making it worse."  
  
"You better listen to your retard boyfriend," Geoff advised her. "I don't wanna have to mention about how you got your period all over yourself last year in theology."  
  
Natalie turned bright red and looked like she was about to cry. "Lay off, man," Richie said turning around again. "You wanna make fun of me, fine. Leave her alone."  
  
"S-s-s-sorry!" Geoff laughed.  
  
Richie started to stand up, but Aaron stopped him with a hand on his arm. "Let it go, Joel."  
  
"Joel MacLeod, what the hell kinda name is that?" the bully asked.  
  
Richie rolled his eyes. "It's not like I picked it," he shot back. "My parents did."  
  
"Are they 'tards, too? Do you just belong to a whole family of them? A whole family of retards?"  
  
Before Geoff knew what hit him, Richie did. "What did you say about my parents?"  
  
Geoff got up and glared down at Richie. "You heard me, it m-m-m-must be ge- gen-ge-genetic. You got a loser gene from your loser mom."  
  
Richie's eyes flashed and his fist flew up connecting hard with Geoff's jaw. "Shut the hell up about my mom."  
  
"Don't touch me, man," the bully warned.  
  
"Like this?" Richie asked shoving him lightly. "Or this?" He kicked him in the shin. By this time the entire cafeteria of maroon blazered boys and plaid skirted girls were staring intently at them and whispering. "Or maybe you meant this," he offered throwing his arms around Geoff's shoulders and wrestling the much bigger boy to the ground.  
  
"Fight!" a freshman yelled excitedly. And the entire cafeteria went into chaos. All the kids got up and rushed to surround the wrestling seventeen- year-olds cheering them on loudly.  
  
"Joel stop!" Natalie pleaded.  
  
"Kill 'em, Geoff!"  
  
"Kick his ass, Joel!"  
  
"Get him for me, Mac!" Richie had to think for a second before he realized that this time he was Mac. Geoff took advantage of Richie's momentary distraction to push him into a table leg sending the trays of food splattering all over the ground and both of them.  
  
"Get 'em!"  
  
"Oh! Right in the nose!" Excited chatter rippled through the crowd to the unfortunate kids in the back that the first blood of the fight had been spilled.  
  
"Stop this right now!" a short nun demanded elbowing her way to the center of the ring of students. "Everyone go to your classes! Anyone left in the cafeteria will be punished!" she warned. The crowd quickly began to scatter in all directions as students rushed for their bags before running into the halls.  
  
"Joel, come on!" Aaron called grabbing Richie's books as well as his own. "Let's get out of here!" he grabbed Natalie by the arm and began to drag her away.  
  
Richie and Geoff were still fighting on the floor ignoring Sister Katherine's orders to 'cease this hooliganism' when Father Parker, the algebra teacher, and Mr. Killen, the gym coach, came in.  
  
"All right, son," Mr. Killen grunted pulling Richie up by the back of his collar. Father Parker reached down to haul up Geoff.  
  
"What's this all about?" he demanded.  
  
"He started it," Geoff spat glaring fiercely at Richie.  
  
"Did not!" Richie yelled back trying to pull out of the coach's grip.  
  
"You hit me!"  
  
"I told you to shut up, you got fair warning!"  
  
"You still started it!"  
  
"I don't care who started it," Mr. Killen growled. "We're calling both of your parents."  
  
Richie stopped struggling and twisted slightly to look at the teacher. "You're calling my parents?"  
  
"Yes," Father Parker agreed. "To the headmaster's office, both of you." Geoff straightened his tie and turned to go checking his nose for blood then staring down at the red liquid on his hand. "We'll have the nurse check you out," Father Parker assured him.  
  
"Get moving, MacLeod," Mr. Killen ordered giving Richie a push.  
  
Richie slouched next to Geoff in the office and listened to him complain about his nose for twenty minutes before Duncan and Tessa arrived. Duncan looked sternly down at him and Tessa knelt down to inspect his face for any injury.  
  
"Are you okay?" she asked softly.  
  
"Yeah," he answered not looking her in the eye.  
  
"Good," she replied standing back up. She joined Duncan's glare and Richie slouched further down in the chair.  
  
Geoff's parents came out of the office and Mrs. Conway rushed to her son's side to comfort him. "Are you okay, darling?" she soothed gently stroking his cheek. Tessa felt a pang of jealousy watching the other mother/son pair interact.  
  
"Mr. and Mrs. MacLeod, the headmaster would like to speak with you," the secretary said leading Duncan and Tessa into the office. "Mr. and Mrs. Conway, Geoff, you may go home now." Mrs. Conway glared sternly at Richie for a brief moment before leading the still mortally wounded bully away.  
  
Ten agonizing, excruciating, torturous, never ending minutes later the office door reopened and Richie's 'parents' came out.  
  
"Come on, Joel, get your stuff," Duncan said.  
  
"Uh, I um, kinda don't. have it?" Richie stammered.  
  
"Where is it?"  
  
"Aaron's got it."  
  
"I'll have him bring it down," the secretary said looking up Aaron's schedule on the computer and calling his class. Less than five minutes later Aaron appeared carrying Richie's bag with a big grin on his face.  
  
"Mac," he started apparently having given Richie a new nickname. "You are the talk of the sch- - Hello Mr. and Mrs. MacLeod," he greeted carefully forcing the smile from his face. "I'm Aaron Travis, it's nice to." with a simple shake of his head Richie silenced him. Aaron nodded and handed Richie his bag. "See you tomorrow."  
  
"See ya," Richie replied glumly. "If I live that long."  
  
"Come on, Joel," Duncan said again. Richie shouldered his bag and shot Aaron a 'pray for me' look before following them out of the school.  
  
When they got to the loft Richie was sent to his room and he quietly went mumbling something about a test tomorrow. Duncan and Tessa talked in hushed voices about what to do with Richie. School wise they had talked the headmaster down from suspension to a week of detention before and after school; what Richie's punishment was going to be at home they didn't know yet.  
  
"We should let him explain," Tessa insisted. "If he feels he was justified for what he did."  
  
"That doesn't change the fact that he can't fight in school. If he was any other kid I'd feel the same way, sometimes that's the only option you feel you have, especially at his age. But he can't risk getting caught. I forged his records, used his same grades but I couldn't leave him at the same schools. So I 'enrolled' him at a private boarding school that some immortals fabricated to fake their credentials. If anyone starts to pry too deeply his cover could be blown, and then he'll get exposed, reported, and sent to juvie. We can't risk that. He can't risk that."  
  
"But Duncan, that doesn't change who he is. We just have to explain it to him. He doesn't know."  
  
"Just explaining it to him won't work, Tess," Duncan reminded her. "This is Richie we're talking about. All he's ever done is get in trouble and get out of it. That doesn't teach him anything. He needs to learn that he can't do this anymore. We can explain it to him," he assured her. "But he still needs to be punished."  
  
"Fine, but you're the one to do it. and I don't support it," Tessa answered resolutely. "Whatever you decide happens, but I won't agree with you and I don't care if Richie knows."  
  
"Tessa, we have to be a combined front here. You can't baby him. I understand if you don't agree, but don't say that in front of Richie. He'll try to find a way to use it to his advantage that we're divided. Raising a child doesn't work if the parents openly don't agree."  
  
"What do you know about raising children?" Tessa shot back. "Richie is different. This is a very unique situation. He's obviously been through a lot to do what he did. There is something seriously wrong with him. The last thing he needs to think is that we don't love him. If that happens we wake up tomorrow and he's gone."  
  
"He can't get away with it, Tessa," Duncan insisted. They stared at each other for a minute.  
  
"Fine," Tessa relented. "He gets punished. But nothing too harsh. This is the first time we've done this, that should be clue enough that he did something wrong."  
  
"Do we go talk him?" Duncan wondered looking down the hall at Richie's closed door.  
  
Tessa got up and opened the door to ask Richie if he wanted anything.  
  
"No, thank you," he answered quietly not lifting his eyes from his book.  
  
"Where are your school clothes so I can wash them?"  
  
"On the chair."  
  
Tessa picked up his ketchup stained oxford shirt and khaki pants off the chair. "I'll call you when dinner's ready."  
  
"Okay."  
  
She left and went back into the living room. "We talk to him at dinner," she decided.  
  
. . . . . .  
  
Two and a half hours later Tessa called Richie from his room to eat. He sat down quietly at the table and stared at his plate. He didn't mention that they had served hamburgers at school that day. Duncan noticed that Richie was void of all his usual dinner time habits; he didn't complain about not being allowed a soda, gripe about school, tell vulgar jokes that had been shared that day at lunch, he didn't even make eye contact with anybody. He never spoke unless spoken to first and even then gave the shortest politest answers possible. When dinner was over he quietly went about helping Duncan clear the table as he always did, but his behavior made the usually enjoyable task unbelievably uncomfortable. He didn't loudly complain about Tessa's cooking or purposely forget to rinse dishes before he put them in the dishwasher so Duncan would have to pull them back out and give them to him. Instead he went about his chores as quickly and efficiently as possible before trying to go back to his room.  
  
"Not yet, Richie," Duncan told him. "We need to talk first."  
  
"I've got a test tomorrow," Richie tried desperately to make an excuse to leave.  
  
"You'll have plenty of time to study," Tessa told him sitting at the table. Richie followed her example and studied a scratch on his hand carefully.  
  
"What happened today at school?" Duncan asked.  
  
"I got in a fight," Richie answered quietly.  
  
"Who started it?"  
  
"It depends on who you ask."  
  
"Richie." Duncan warned.  
  
"I threw the first punch, but he provoked me," the boy explained.  
  
"What did he do to provoke you?"  
  
"He was stayin' stuff."  
  
"That's it. He was just talking?"  
  
"About me."  
  
"What about you?"  
  
"He was making fun of me," Richie was becoming defensive.  
  
Duncan paused. "About what?"  
  
"The way I read," he answered after a second. "He said I was retarded."  
  
"So you hit him?" Duncan looked at Tessa; Richie's excuse wasn't very justified.  
  
"I told him to stop."  
  
"And he kept going."  
  
"And then he started talking about you guys, I got mad, and hit him," Richie admitted. "I know I shouldn't have. But he wouldn't stop, he's been doing it forever."  
  
"Why didn't you tell someone?"  
  
"This is high school, Mac," Richie answered. "That just would have made it worse."  
  
"So you decided to take matters into your own hands?"  
  
"I know I shouldn't have, okay?"  
  
"No, that doesn't make it okay, Richie you still did it. And you can't do stuff like that," Duncan told him sternly. "Not just because it's wrong, but because attracting too much attention to yourself could make people curious. Do you get what I'm saying?"  
  
"I could blow the whole operation," Richie answered.  
  
"Exactly. You almost got suspended. As it is you're at school an hour early and an hour late for a week. And while you have detention. you're grounded. When you get home, you go to your room and do your homework. You stay in your room, no TV, no phone, no going out. Understand?"  
  
"Mac are you serious?" Richie asked. "This has got to be a joke!"  
  
"No joke, Richie. You have to learn, this is the only way how."  
  
"Can't I do extra chores or something?"  
  
"That's a good idea. You want out of your room, you're cleaning."  
  
"What?"  
  
"It's only a week, Richie," Tessa reminded him.  
  
"So until Friday," Richie said hopefully. It was Tuesday, that wouldn't be too bad.  
  
"Until next Tuesday," Duncan clarified. "Unless of course you do something to change that."  
  
"Over the weekend, too?"  
  
"Yes," Duncan said. "Any more questions or are you ready to study?"  
  
Richie looked at Tessa. "Tessa," he whined. "C'mon."  
  
Tessa took a deep breath. "Unless you have something important to say, go to your room," she told him.  
  
Richie glanced between the two one last time before sighing and leaving the table.  
  
"I can't do this, Duncan," Tessa sighed once Richie's door was slammed shut.  
  
"Don't slam the door!" Duncan yelled before turning to Tessa. "We have to. It's only a week." 


	4. ch 4

The next morning Tessa nearly had a nervous breakdown when she opened Richie's door and found his bed empty. Not until she heard dishes clinking in the kitchen did she stop panicking. She quickly padded her way across the loft and found him already dressed putting cream cheese on a bagel.  
  
"You're up early," she commented carefully. The last thing she had said to him the night before was 'go to your room' and she wasn't sure how he was going to react.  
  
"Gotta be at school early," he shrugged not looking up. "Got in trouble yesterday, you know."  
  
"Richie, are you mad?"  
  
"Why would I be mad?" he asked curtly. "I just got the shit punished out of me for a stupid fight. You know in public school they'd just yell at you."  
  
"You're not in public school," she reminded him. "Maybe you need to tailor your behavior."  
  
"None of this was my idea you know," Richie shot back. "I don't see why we couldn't leave things the way they were."  
  
"Because you need an education."  
  
"I know everything I need to know. Life is a powerful teacher."  
  
"Life doesn't teach you algebra or chemistry."  
  
"I don't need that," he insisted grabbing his bag. "I gotta go, see ya," he mumbled as he brushed past her.  
  
"Bye, Richie," she answered.  
  
. . . . . .  
  
Two days later Richie was pouting in his room sitting on his bed slumped up against the wall when there was a knock on his door.  
  
"What?"  
  
Duncan opened the door. "Just checking up on you."  
  
"Making sure I didn't run away?" Richie grumbled.  
  
"Making sure you weren't doing anything you weren't supposed to," Duncan corrected. Richie rolled his eyes and looked away. He had been caught twice in front of his TV with the volume way down and once with his headphones on listening to his stereo. "You know, this would be a lot easier if you weren't being so difficult."  
  
"What? Mac, I didn't do anything!" Richie insisted. "This would be a lot easier if you guys weren't so strict. I mean, a whole week? For one fight? First offence? Doesn't that count for anything?"  
  
"Like you've never gotten into fights before, Richie," Duncan reminded him. "We didn't like you doing it before and now you can't. If anyone looks too deeply into your records you end up in jail and I'd probably go right along with you for forging them. There's more riding on your behavior than you think." Richie looked at him and didn't say anything. "I'm not trying to guilt trip you," Duncan continued sitting on the edge of Richie's bed, fighting the urge to reach out and put his hand on his shoulder. "But you have to think about more than just yourself. Yeah, it's annoying when people make fun of you, but that doesn't mean you can haul off and kick the guy's butt. Ignore it as much as you can and if it gets too bad walk away. There's no shame in not fighting."  
  
"But you let one guy get away with it people think you're a push over and it just gets worse," Richie insisted.  
  
"Then you might have to deal with more people getting on your nerves, but you still can't pick fights with every guy that says something you don't like," Duncan said gently. He knew Richie's ego was sensitive and half the time the only way he could think of to prove himself was to fight. "Besides, you can't go around beating the crap out of every guy that crosses you," he added with a slight smile. "You understand?"  
  
Richie didn't react to Duncan's attempt at a joke and sighed heavily. "Yeah."  
  
. . . . . .  
  
The next day at school Aaron was regaling the lunch table with a story about his father's army days when Geoff Conway approached them.  
  
"My daddy the war hero," he mimicked.  
  
Richie's defenses immediately went up and he glared up at the bully. "At least his dad isn't flavor of the month on the cell block," he sneered.  
  
"Mac," Aaron warned. Richie smirked at him then went back to his spaghetti.  
  
"Watch it MacLeod," Geoff returned. "Or next time you're out of here for good."  
  
"Straight from detention to expulsion, gotta be some kind of record," he shrugged pulling apart his garlic bread.  
  
"I don't like you."  
  
"The feeling's mutual," Richie replied. "Do you know what that means?" he added as if talking to a five year old.  
  
"Shut up, retard."  
  
"You first, dullard."  
  
"What the hell does that mean?" Geoff demanded before he could stop himself.  
  
Richie smirked as he stood up and shouldered his bag. "It means idiot, even a retard like me knows that. I'll see you guys later." And with that he ventured into the hall, checked to see if the coast was clear, and went out the doors.  
  
. . . . . .  
  
The school had called and requested a parent/teacher conference. Richie had been sent to detention to wait for it to be over. "Joel," Duncan greeted curtly as he entered detention hall.  
  
"Hey, Dad," Richie returned in a shaky voice with a hopeful smile.  
  
"Skipping?"  
  
"I was going to come back for detention."  
  
"If you were going to come back why leave in the first place?"  
  
Richie sighed and shifted in his seat as Duncan glared down at him. "Geoff and I got into it again," he admitted slowly. "You said to walk away, so I did."  
  
"Not out of the school! Away from the situation."  
  
"I needed some time to think," Richie offered lamely.  
  
"You'll have plenty of time, you have detention for another week, and as long as you have detention."  
  
"I'm grounded," Richie finished.  
  
"Exactly. Let's go." Duncan turned and left the room.  
  
Slowly Richie stood. "That's your dad, huh?" the boy next to him asked.  
  
"Yup."  
  
"Looks like you're in big trouble."  
  
"And I have Father Parker to thank for it, again. See ya tomorrow?"  
  
"For the next three days," the boy answered.  
  
Saturday and Sunday passed without incident. Richie stayed in his room only coming out to eat and every couple hours someone would check up on him with an offer of some chore he could do to get out of his room for a while. He steadfastly refused and spent his days staring at the walls or sleeping.  
  
"I didn't know somebody could sleep so much," Tessa commented after quietly closing his door late Sunday afternoon. "Its like he's a hibernating bear."  
  
"He's just being stubborn. He's got another week left of it, he'll start begging for something to do soon," Duncan assured her.  
  
"You grounded him again?"  
  
"He got detention again," he shrugged. "He was skipping class. You can't expect me to let him get away with that," he added at Tessa's accusing look.  
  
"Can't you just lecture him?"  
  
"What would that teach him?"  
  
"That we're not going to overreact every time he gets in trouble."  
  
"Tess," Duncan sighed. "He's sixteen, not five. If he gets away with one thing, he's going to try to get away with another."  
  
"And if you keep punishing him he could run away."  
  
"Why would he do that?"  
  
"Because he thinks we're angry with him?" she suggested. "He's sixteen, he's impressionable, he's sensitive, and he's done it before. He's already being punished at school, if you ground him here, I'll un-ground him. Then he might trust one of us."  
  
"Tessa."  
  
"I'll do it, Duncan. He doesn't deserve it. He was just trying to do what you told him."  
  
"He knew what I meant, he was using it to get out of trouble and it didn't work," Duncan argued back.  
  
"How do you know that?"  
  
"Tessa, we can't do this, we can't turn on each other."  
  
"I let you ground him the first time. Now it's my turn to deal with him," she insisted coldly before walking away.  
  
An hour later when Tessa went to check on Richie she found him lying on his bed staring at a point in mid-space.  
  
"Richie?" she said softly attracting his attention. "Are you hungry?"  
  
"Yeah," he answered quietly. "What are you making?"  
  
"I thought we'd go out, just you and me. Your choice. How does that sound?"  
  
"Sounds like there's a catch."  
  
"I'll tell you what it is later. Do you want to or not?" Richie just looked at her. "I could always just make spinach omelets." Richie grinned slightly. "Ah, I knew you'd smile again one of these days."  
  
"Just you and me?" he asked.  
  
"Anywhere you want to go."  
  
Richie thought for a second. "Alright, but this catch had better not be-"  
  
"Ah!" she interrupted. "I'll tell you later. Get dressed."  
  
Richie rolled off his bed and searched for his jeans.  
  
"I didn't know you liked seafood," Tessa commented as Richie began digging into the large plate of lobster and shrimp he had ordered.  
  
"Love it," Richie told her. "I grew up here, my first solid food was lobster. My mom used to call me fish boy cause that's all I used to eat. I would throw a fit if she gave me anything else."  
  
"Then its a good seafood is so cheap around her. You could have been an expensive child."  
  
"Could of," he agreed.  
  
"What happened to your mom?" Tessa asked carefully.  
  
"She died."  
  
"I thought so."  
  
"So why'd you ask if you already knew?" Richie asked defensively.  
  
"I didn't mean to upset you," she assured him carefully. "It just came out. I'm sorry."  
  
"It's okay. It just. it weirds me out when people start asking stuff like that. It's nobody else's business."  
  
"I'm sorry, I won't ask anymore." She went back to her stuffed salmon.  
  
"I was real little," Richie said suddenly. He was very quiet about it; she almost didn't hear him.  
  
"How little?" she asked hoping this was his way of opening up.  
  
"Five. I don't remember if I was about to turn five or if I just did."  
  
"What happened?"  
  
"I don't remember. I barely remember her. I just remember we used to go to the post office and candy store every week."  
  
"What happened to your dad?"  
  
"He left us, I guess," he shrugged. "I don't remember him at all."  
  
"Oh. I'm sorry."  
  
"It's not your fault," he answered spearing a shrimp. "I figure he just didn't want a kid."  
  
"Richie, it's not your fault either."  
  
"I know," he shrugged shoving the food in his mouth. "So what does Mac have to say about me going out? I mean, aren't I supposed to be grounded?"  
  
Tessa thought for a minute. "We decided you'd been grounded long enough," she lied. Duncan had been angry that Tessa had undermined his decision, but hadn't stood in her way when they left; she guessed he wanted to remain a 'united front'. "I guess this is a good time to bring up the catch for dinner."  
  
Richie sighed and looked at her with a smart-ass grin. "Can't we wait until after desert?"  
  
She smiled back. "You think you're going to have room?"  
  
"Of course."  
  
"We'll get some ice cream. How does that sound?"  
  
"Almost as good a cheese cake," he answered eyeing the desert tray hungrily.  
  
"Fine, Mac will think I'm spoiling you, but have your cheese cake."  
  
He grinned broadly at her. "I knew you'd let me. Who cares what Mac thinks?" Tessa laughed. "He's a jerk," he added softly to himself.  
  
"He just wants to make sure you don't get into any serious trouble," Tessa assured him having overheard Richie's final comment.  
  
"But he's so.so." he searched for the word. "Militant about the whole thing. He's the strictest dad I've ever had. And trust me, I've had plenty."  
  
"I'll talk to him about it. And once again, you bring me to the catch."  
  
"Uh-oh."  
  
"You can't keep getting in trouble. The less you get in trouble the less of a big deal it will be when it happens. The more the harsher the punishments."  
  
"Harsher?" Richie repeated. "I've been sitting in my room staring at lent in the air like a house cat for the past week! And this was the first time! What's going to be harsher? Locking me in the closet for a month?"  
  
"It was almost two," she reminded him. "And if you keep up the attitude it might be three."  
  
"Sorry," Richie quickly mumbled.  
  
"I know you don't like it. But we can't leave you to raise yourself anymore. You're still young."  
  
"I don't need anymore parents," Richie insisted.  
  
"But you need someone to take care of you because you're not doing a very good job of it." Richie opened his mouth to protest. "You don't have to, you shouldn't have to," she cut him off. "But you have to trust that we know what we're doing. Let us help you. We're not going to hurt you, we don't have a laugh every time we send you to your room, we just want to do what's best for you."  
  
"You barely know me, how do you know what's best?"  
  
"Because I know you're hiding something. I'm not going to ask you to tell me, I'm not going to pressure you to share anything you don't want to. But there is something wrong and when you feel you're ready I want you to tell me what it is." 


	5. ch 5

"I told you, Tessa," Duncan said hanging up the phone and walking out of the store office.  
  
"Told me what?" she asked.  
  
"He did it again."  
  
"Who did. Richie?"  
  
"Joel, if you want to get technical."  
  
Tessa sighed and rolled her eyes. "What did he do this time?"  
  
"Apparently he was at the center of a near riot in the cafeteria."  
  
"What?"  
  
"Food fights, fist fights, you name it; he started it."  
  
"I doubt he started it all by himself someone else had to be involved."  
  
"Why do you keep defending him, Tess? He's a trouble maker, we've know it from the start." Duncan threw his hands into the air and started pacing. "I don't know what to do, I can't get it through to him, this is ridiculous!"  
  
"Richie is not a trouble maker," she defended him. "He just doesn't know how to behave."  
  
"Then you need to teach him," Duncan said turning to face her. "This is getting way out of hand."  
  
"I need to teach him? Don't you mean we?"  
  
"I'll hit him," Duncan fumed. "The first smart-ass remark that comes out of his mouth I'm slappin' him. Tessa, I am going to seriously hurt him."  
  
"Duncan, he just a boy! How can you say that?"  
  
"I can't be around him right now," Duncan told her. "I'm too frustrated with him. I'm scared I will hurt him." He sank into a chair on display and held his head in his hands. "I want to help him, Tessa. I know its not all his fault; nobody raised him properly. But I'm getting too angry to deal with this."  
  
"At least you can admit it," Tessa told him softly torn between being angry with him for having such thoughts, scared that he would think that, or happy he realized he had a problem. "Maybe you should get away for awhile. Take a trip. go to the cabin to clear your head and calm down."  
  
Duncan looked up at her. "Do you think that's a good idea?"  
  
"I think that if you feel you can't be around Richie, then you shouldn't," she told him. "I'll take care of him, take as long as you need. The last thing we need is for you to scare him away. Then he'd get into serious trouble."  
  
"You think I should leave?" Duncan repeated.  
  
"I think you should. You can't think like that, Duncan. I know it was common when you grew up, but you can't hit a child."  
  
"I know. I don't want to, but scared I will."  
  
"Then go. I'll explain everything to Richie when I pick him up from school."  
  
"He's going to hate me, Tessa," Duncan said quietly.  
  
"I'll explain it to him, I'll make sure he understands."  
  
That afternoon Tessa picked up Richie after detention.  
  
"Figured it'd be Mac," he said quietly as he got into the car.  
  
"Duncan left."  
  
"He what!?"  
  
"Not permanently," Tessa assured him forgetting momentarily about Richie's father. "He just needed to get away."  
  
"Because of me?" Richie asked fearfully.  
  
Tessa swallowed. This was going to be harder than she thought. "He's frustrated. He doesn't understand why you keep getting into trouble. He wanted to think things through before he did anything too rash."  
  
"So he left us."  
  
"Richie, he didn't leave us," she insisted. "He went to the cabin. You can call him tonight if you want; he's coming back."  
  
"How do you know?" Richie asked. "They always say they're coming back."  
  
"Because I know Duncan and he loves us, that's why he had to leave for a while. He didn't want to overreact and do something he'd regret."  
  
"I'm sorry, Tessa," Richie said with sincerity she had never heard him use before. "I'll do better, I swear."  
  
"Good, all we want you to do is try."  
  
"But I do," he insisted. "I swear I do. I just can't stop myself sometimes."  
  
"You have to learn to control your anger."  
  
"I try."  
  
"Good," she told him with a smile trying to ease his guilt. "That's all you can do."  
  
"Then why is Mac so mad?"  
  
"Because." Tessa searched for a way to tell him. "Because he's been around so long. He can control his feelings, he knows how to do a lot of stuff and it comes so naturally to him now that. that he can't understand why others have trouble with it."  
  
"Like you and algebra?" Richie offered. He had long since given up on asking her for help on his math homework; she understood it, he didn't and no matter what she said it didn't help.  
  
"Just like me and algebra," she smiled again. "So you understand that it's not your fault, right?" Richie didn't immediately respond. "Richie, it's not your fault," she told him sternly but gently.  
  
"If you say so," he shrugged.  
  
"It doesn't matter how many times I tell you, you'll still blame yourself won't you?" she asked pulling the car to a stop behind the store.  
  
"Tessa, he left because of me," Richie said opening his door. "How can you say it's not?"  
  
"Because it isn't," she insisted. Richie ignored her and kept walking. "Richie, Richie stop. Richie!" Richie stopped and turned to face her. "It's. not. your. fault," she told him slowly. "Would it help if Duncan told you himself?" Richie couldn't decide where to look; anywhere but Tessa seemed to be the general idea. "Call him tonight. It should be around ten when he gets there."  
  
"Fine," Richie barely whispered turning and heading back up the stairs. Tessa watched him retreat into his room then immediately went into the office and picked up the phone.  
  
"Mac, it's me. We have a problem. Richie's upset," she told the answering machine. "He thinks it's his fault you left. I told him to call you tonight. You have to tell him it's not his fault, I scared he might run." She paused. "I love you." She hung up.  
  
That night Duncan called as soon as he got the message. "Tessa, is he still there?" he asked urgently when she answered the phone.  
  
"He's in the shower."  
  
"I was afraid this might happen," he sighed. "I don't know what to do with him. He won't let anyone close enough to comfort him, but he needs it so badly."  
  
"Duncan, I've been thinking. I have a girlfriend who is a psychiatrist; maybe I should call her. He needs help and we can't give it to him."  
  
"Tessa, he doesn't need that."  
  
"He won't let us touch him. at all. I know you're worried about that. I've heard you talk about it."  
  
Duncan sighed. "Some people just don't like to be touched."  
  
"He's too out going to hate contact the way he does. I still think there's something wrong with him."  
  
"If it will make you feel better and you can get him to go along with it, fine. Take him."  
  
"I'll call her in the morning."  
  
"Night, Tessa!" Richie called down the hall.  
  
"Wait!" she called back. "Duncan wants to talk to you!" She held out the phone to him in invitation.  
  
Reluctantly he took the phone from her hands. "Hey," he greeted softly. He paused as Duncan spoke. "I know, Tessa told me." There were another couple minutes of silence. "I know." He nodded. "Okay, bye." He handed the phone back to Tessa. "Gonna have phone sex now?" he asked with a smirk.  
  
"Richard Ryan!" Tessa exclaimed. "How dare you! Go to your room!" she ordered with a smile. "Did you hear that?" she asked Duncan swatting at Richie as he turned his back to her and pretended to make out with himself. "He says you're grounded," she informed the boy who was grinning broadly at her.  
  
"What else is new?" he asked winking at her before he left.  
  
"How can you think he has problems?" Duncan chuckled. "The only problem he has is he's a teenager."  
  
"I'm still worried about him," Tessa insisted.  
  
"It's probably just a phase."  
  
"What did you tell him?" she asked suddenly noticing Richie's abrupt transformation.  
  
"I just explained it to him. Told him I left because I didn't want to hurt him."  
  
"And suddenly he's back to normal? Because you admitted you wanted to hit him?"  
  
"I guess it was just he way he was raised."  
  
"What do you mean?"  
  
"You can't tell me the thought has never crossed your mind."  
  
"You mean, that he was." she couldn't bring herself to say it.  
  
"Now he knows that we're taking precautions that it won't happen again. That threat is gone."  
  
"You've been doing some thinking," Tessa smiled.  
  
"I have been known to over the centuries."  
  
"I can't believe someone would do that to a child," she admitted softly looking at Richie's closed door. "That's horrible."  
  
"It happens, though. But we're changing that; we're breaking the trend."  
  
The next afternoon Richie came home on time and helped Tessa rearrange the store before going to do his homework.  
  
"Do you need any help?" Tessa offered.  
  
"Nah, I got it," he assured her disappearing up the stairs.  
  
"If you need any help, just let me know!" she called after him.  
  
"Okay!" he called back.  
  
Twenty minutes later Tessa had a sinking feeling in her stomach. Something was wrong. She couldn't put her finger on it, but that something bothered her for the next half-hour until she couldn't concentrate any more. Giving up on her sculpture she went upstairs to see what Richie wanted for dinner. She knocked on the door but there was no answer.  
  
"Richie?" she asked. "Richie!" she called again when there was no answer. Slowly she pushed the door open thinking he might have fallen asleep. He wasn't in his room. His bed was made and his schoolbooks were piled in the middle of it. Everything Duncan and Tessa had bought was neatly put away. The only things missing from the room were Richie and what he had brought with him.  
  
AN: Short I know. And I know many of you might not agree with the approach I'm taking with this, but I promise it will all make sense soon. 


	6. ch 6

It always rained in Washington. Richie snapped the collar of his green and black racing jacket and pushed his hat further down on his head. He shifted the almost nothing weight of his backpack and jogged for the shelter of the truck stop. He leaned up against the brick wall of the building and fished a soggy wad of crumpled bills out of his jeans pocket. It had been a few days and he was running low on cash. He decided that for now all he needed was a cup of coffee to warm him up. He hated begging and wanted to delay the need to do it as long as possible. He took off his hat and shook the water from his hair before entering the all night café. There was one large truck driver sitting at the counter chatting happily with the lone waitress; Richie chose a stool on the other end of the counter.  
  
"What can I get for you, sugar?" the waitress asked snapping her gum.  
  
"Coffee," Richie answered quietly.  
  
"Comin' right up," she smiled down at him. She left and returned a second later with a cup and pot of coffee. Richie nodded slightly at her and held his hands around the cup to warm them back up. The waitress went back to chatting with the truck driver. Richie could tell they were talking about him because they kept glancing over at him.  
  
"Didn't I pass you a few miles back on the road?" the driver asked in a deep voice.  
  
"Possibly," Richie shrugged.  
  
"That's a hell of rain to be out in."  
  
Richie shrugged again. "S'not that bad."  
  
"What's a young kid like you doing out in the middle of the nowhere this late at night by yourself?"  
  
"I'm not as young as I look," Richie assured him smugly.  
  
"You look like a lost little kid to me," the truck driver told him. "Maria, get the kid whatever he wants, on me."  
  
"What do you want, sugar?" Maria asked pulling a pen out from behind her ear.  
  
"Nothin'," Richie told her. "I don't need any charity."  
  
"Well, if you want a ride, you have to eat. Them's the rules," the truck driver told him with a smile. "I'm going north and could use some company."  
  
Richie perked up a little. "Yeah?"  
  
"But this is my last stop before my delivery, so you want to come you better eat now."  
  
"When you leaving?"  
  
"As soon as you're done." The driver patted the seat next to him invitingly.  
  
Richie thought for a minute then got up and took a seat next to the driver. "I'm Richie," he introduced himself putting his hand out.  
  
"Bruce."  
  
"What can I get ya, sugar?" Maria asked.  
  
"Anything you got."  
  
Maria smiled and cracked her gum again. "I'll get you a burger and fries."  
  
"That works." Twenty minutes later Richie finished off the last of the cherry pie.  
  
"How long as it been since you've eaten, Richie?" Bruce asked with a laugh.  
  
"Yesterday morning."  
  
"How long have you been on the run?"  
  
"Couple days," Richie shrugged.  
  
"Where you from?"  
  
"South."  
  
"Where are you going?"  
  
"Anywhere you'll take me."  
  
"Turns out that's where I'm headed," Bruce told him with a smile. "But there's another condition." He pointed to a phone behind the counter.  
  
. . . . . .  
  
"Still no word?" Duncan asked shaking the rain off his coat before draping if across a chair in the kitchen. Richie had been missing for almost three days. They had filed a missing persons report as soon as the police would let them and took turns driving around the city and waiting for someone to call. They had called all of Richie's friends and nobody had seen or heard from him.  
  
"Duncan, where could he be?" Tessa asked wrapping her arms around his waist for comfort.  
  
"I don't think he's in Seacouver anymore," Duncan told her softly. "Someone would have found him by now."  
  
"You think he's hitch-hiking?"  
  
"I wouldn't put it past him," he admitted. "I'm sorry, Tessa. I thought telling him would make it easier on him. I didn't want to lie to him. If I had said what you told me to none of this would have happened."  
  
"We'll find him and we'll bring him home," Tessa decided. "I don't care if we have to drag him all the way back from Canada, I'm not letting him stay out by himself, he's too young."  
  
"I'll do everything I can to find him," he assured her running his fingers through her hair before grabbing his coat and heading out onto the streets again. Before he left the phone rang.  
  
Tessa snatched it up. "Hello?"  
  
"Tessa?" a small shaky voice asked.  
  
"Richie!" Duncan was at her side in a heartbeat. "Where are you?"  
  
"Out of town," he told her quietly.  
  
"Tell me where you are, we'll come get you."  
  
"No, I just called to tell you I'm okay and I'm sorry."  
  
"Richie it's okay, where are you?"  
  
"I'm not coming back, Tessa." By his voice she could tell he was trying not to cry. "I just screwed everything up. I'm sorry."  
  
"Richie, please," she begged him. "Tell me where you are!"  
  
"I can't."  
  
"Why? Are you hurt?"  
  
"No, Tessa, I'm fine. I can't tell you because then you'll try to come get me. And I'm not going back. Mac hates me."  
  
"I don't hate you, Rich," Duncan whispered listening to the conversation but not willing to risk scaring Richie off the phone by saying something.  
  
"No he doesn't, Richie," Tessa assured him.  
  
"You didn't hear him on the phone when he called."  
  
"He was trying to make you feel better by explaining what was going on. He didn't want to scare you."  
  
"Well he did."  
  
"Richie, please come home."  
  
"I can't. I'm sorry. I'll send you the money I owe from school when I get it."  
  
"Richie!" He had already hung up the phone. Tessa hung up as well and looked at Duncan. "We have to find him; he's scared."  
  
"I'm going north," Duncan decided. "Call the police and tell them he called and he's left the city and we think he went north. That way they can alert the other counties."  
  
. . . . . .  
  
Richie ran his arm across his eyes before turning around to face Bruce and Maria. "You happy, I called them."  
  
"You call your parents Tessa and Mac?" Maria asked.  
  
"They're not my real parents."  
  
"I see," Bruce nodded. "You ready to go? You look like you could use some sleep." Bruce led Richie out of the café winking at Maria over Richie's head as they left. The friendly trucker waited for Richie to get settled in the small bed in the back of the cab before he pulled out onto the two- lane highway.  
  
Maria waited for the rig to disappear into the night before picking up the phone behind the counter and hitting the re-dial button. A woman with an accent answered.  
  
"Richie?"  
  
"No, sugar, this is Maria."  
  
"Who?"  
  
"Richie used my phone to call you."  
  
"Is he okay?"  
  
"He's fine, sugar. He's with my friend Bruce. a true gentleman if there ever was one. Richie said he was from south of here, that true?"  
  
"Where are you?"  
  
"Just east of Ft. Coolly."  
  
"That's over a hundred miles from here!" the woman exclaimed.  
  
"Where is here?"  
  
"Seacouver," she answered quickly. "Where is your friend taking Richie?"  
  
"I'll tell him where you're from when he calls. Don't worry. Richie won't be the first runaway Bruce ever missed a delivery to take home."  
  
"Thank you, Maria."  
  
"Sure thing, sugar. You just wait for the police to call and tell you they have them." They hung up. 


	7. ch 7

Richie groaned and stretched as best he could in the cramped confines of the bed in the back of the cab.  
  
"Mornin', Sport!" Bruce greeted.  
  
"The name's Joel," Richie corrected.  
  
"I thought you said it was Richie?"  
  
"Huh?"  
  
"You said your name was Richie before, now you're saying its Joel. Which is it?"  
  
Richie sighed and crawled into the passenger seat. "Take your pick."  
  
"Multiple personalities?"  
  
"Something like that."  
  
"You wanna tell ol' Bruce about it?"  
  
"I plead the fifth."  
  
Bruce chuckled. "What'd you do, kid?"  
  
"Long story."  
  
"Well, we still have some miles to put under us; tell on!"  
  
"I can't," Richie insisted.  
  
"Why not?"  
  
"Cause you'll tell and I'll get in huge trouble."  
  
"Whatever's buggin' you, kid, can't be good to keep inside."  
  
"It's good if I don't want to go to jail."  
  
"Jail? Geeze, kid, what'd you do?"  
  
"A lot," Richie answered softly.  
  
"Is that why you ran away? All the stuff you did?"  
  
"No, I ran away 'cause'a Mac," he quickly defended then regretted.  
  
"Ah, so this Mac guy is after you for all the stuff you did?"  
  
"Yeah," Richie mumbled.  
  
"He's a cop?"  
  
"No."  
  
"Social worker?"  
  
"No."  
  
"FBI?"  
  
Richie cracked a smile. "No."  
  
"CIA?"  
  
"No."  
  
"Intergalactic Space Patrol?"  
  
"No." Richie was on the verge of laughing.  
  
"Then what is he? Just a dad lookin' for his kid?"  
  
"Until the door closes," Richie mumbled.  
  
"Does your dad hit you?" Bruce asked.  
  
"Not yet."  
  
"What makes you think he will?"  
  
"He said so."  
  
"He said he was going to hurt you?"  
  
"He said he might, he left me and Tessa and everything, he was real mad, it just scared me." For some reason Richie almost felt comfortable confiding in the practical stranger sitting next to him.  
  
"So you left?"  
  
"Yup. I didn't want to give him the chance. You don't know him, he's big, and he works out a lot, he does all sorts of kung-fu stuff. I. I wouldn't have a prayer."  
  
"But does he love you?"  
  
"Huh?"  
  
"Does your dad love you?"  
  
"I hope not," Richie whispered looking out the window just in time to see a sign that said 'Seacouver City Limit'. "You tricked me!" he yelled. "You said you were going north!"  
  
"I was, but changed my mind while you were asleep."  
  
"Stop."  
  
"What?"  
  
"Stop the truck," Richie ordered. "Lemme out."  
  
"Sorry, kiddo, you're going home," Bruce said resolutely as he locked the doors.  
  
"Didn't you hear anything? I can't go back! Mac's gonna kill me!"  
  
"I don't think this Mac is as bad as a guy you make him out to be."  
  
"Are you kidding? He admitted he wanted to hit me!"  
  
"You said he left because of it, so what's to worry?"  
  
"He's comin' back. And when he finds out I ran away. oh, God he's gonna kill me!"  
  
"He's already expecting you. And so's your mom, Tessa, whatever you call her."  
  
"I already told you; they're not my parents," Richie grumbled picking up his bag from the floor and holding it in his lap as he tried to figure out a way to get out.  
  
"You didn't correct me when I called Mac your dad."  
  
"I kinda used to having to pretend," he scoffed.  
  
"Why would you have to do that?"  
  
"Damn, you're nosey."  
  
"Did they kidnap you?"  
  
"No, they wouldn't do something like that."  
  
"Then why do you have to pretend?"  
  
"Because. Why do you even care?"  
  
"I have a soft spot for runaways."  
  
"Good for me."  
  
"If they're not your parents why do you have to pretend?"  
  
"Because I kinda did some stuff and they're hiding me out," Richie offered quietly hoping that would be enough to make the man stop asking questions.  
  
"What'd you do?"  
  
"None of your business!"  
  
"Whoa, take it easy, Sport."  
  
"Stop calling me that!"  
  
"So do I call you Richie or Joel?"  
  
"Pick one, it doesn't matter; I answer to both," Richie was becoming increasingly uncomfortable as he began to recognize his surroundings. They were three blocks away from the police station.  
  
"What should I call you in front of the cops?"  
  
Richie paused. "I don't know," he admitted shakily. Two blocks.  
  
"I'll just call you Sport then."  
  
"Fine," Richie mumbled.  
  
One block.  
  
Half a block.  
  
He saw Tessa's car.  
  
"Time to face the music, Sport." Bruce stopped the truck and unlocked the door. With a shaking hand Richie opened it.  
  
and ran. 


	8. ch 8

"Hey!" Bruce called taking off after him. "Stop!" A couple pedestrians took notice and watched what was going on. They saw Bruce catch up with Richie and firmly grasp the boy's bag.  
  
"Hey!" Richie yelled stopping and turning around as the bag was ripped off his shoulder. "That's mine!"  
  
"Then come with me, I'll give it to your mom and she can give it back to you."  
  
"Screw it, you can keep it," Richie snapped turning to run again. This time Bruce had anticipated his move and his longer legs allowed him to easily catch the fleeing boy by the back of his jacket. "LEMME GO!"  
  
"I told your parents I'd bring you home. I keep my word," Bruce insisted keeping his grip firm as he dragged Richie toward the police station.  
  
"You and Mac."  
  
"Did Mac say he wasn't going to hit you?" Bruce asked. Richie didn't answer.  
  
"Ryan, why am I not surprised?" Sargent Powell drawled when he spotted Bruce and Richie. "What did he do?"  
  
"He's your runaway," Bruce answered keeping his grip and Richie tried to twist out of it.  
  
"The runaway?" Powell repeated. "Goldman! What's your runaway's name?"  
  
An officer across the room looked through some files. "Michelle Peters, Joel-" Richie took in a sharp breath. "Young, and Richie Ryan."  
  
"Cross Ryan off your list and call his." Powell looked at Richie. "Who reported you missing?" he asked as if the idea was unbelievable.  
  
Richie stared indignantly at him. "Tessa," he answered smugly. "Tessa Noel. just 'cause you don't like me doesn't mean no one else does."  
  
"That's Ryan?" Officer Goldman asked walking over and looking Richie up and down. "I've seen you around here."  
  
"I've been around."  
  
"Okay, I'll put him in an interrogation room and I'll call Ms. Noel," Goldman decided taking Richie's arm and dragging him toward the interrogation rooms and thrusting him into one. "Stay put," he ordered before closing the door and locking it.  
  
"What about my stuff?" Richie demanded through the closed door. Knowing nobody heard, nor cared what he had said he sighed and took his standard seat at the end of the table and waited. After about twenty minutes the lock turned again. Richie took a deep breath and watched as the door slowly opened.  
  
"Richie!" Tessa shoved her way past Goldman and threw her arms around a very surprised Richie. Not being one for physical contact he remained stiff until she let go. "Are you okay?" she asked not severing the contact completely and stroking his cheek. "You had us so worried."  
  
Richie tried to remain strong emotionally but once he looked Tessa in the eye, and saw how truly worried she was, his resolve left him. "I'm sorry," he whispered feeling the tears well up in his eyes. He had run away from families before and had always gotten yelled at straight off; getting affection was a new experience.  
  
"I know. Come with me and we'll go home." She offered him her hand and tentatively he reached for it. Tessa smiled as his fingers closed around hers. "Come." She gave him a gentle tug to help him to his feet and led him into the main office of the station. He quietly trailed behind uncomfortable holding her hand, but comforted by it at the same time.  
  
"Okay, Ms. Noel, there's some release papers that need to be signed but then you'll be free to go," Goldman said as he placed a stack of papers on his desk for her to look at.  
  
She glanced over them and signed with one hand, still holding onto Richie with the other as if she was scared he'd run off again. Richie looked around the station and spotted Bruce still talking to Powell. Not used to the near death-grip Tessa had on him he tried to go get his bag only to be pulled back with such force he almost fell over.  
  
"Where are you going?" Tessa demanded sternly.  
  
"He has my stuff," Richie said quietly instantly frightened by her tone gesturing loosely toward Bruce.  
  
"Is that the man who brought you home?" Tessa asked gently realizing what she had done.  
  
"Yeah," he answered. "And he has my stuff." Richie tried to go to him again. Tessa kept her grip again.  
  
"Is that everything?" she asked Goldman.  
  
"Seems to be."  
  
Tessa nodded satisfactorily and took Richie over to where Bruce was standing. "You brought Richie home?" she asked.  
  
"Yes, ma'am," Bruce nodded politely.  
  
"Thank you!" Tessa let go of Richie and hugged Bruce warmly. "Thank you so much!" Richie took the opportunity to snatch his bag up off the floor.  
  
"It was my pleasure, Richie's good company," Bruce smiled as Tessa let him go. "Although if you don't mind me saying, if there's any truth to his fear this is where to handle it."  
  
"His fear?" Tessa repeated. "Oh! Oh, no! The only thing waiting for him at home is a nice dinner and a warm shower," she assured Bruce. "He just misunderstood."  
  
Bruce nodded and shifted his gaze to Richie. "I'd better not see you around, Sport," he said with a grin.  
  
"Okay," Richie answered pulling what little money he had left out of his pocket. "Here."  
  
"What's that for?"  
  
"The ride, dinner, gas, whatever."  
  
"Don't worry about it, Sport." And with that Bruce turned on his heel and left leaving Richie still standing with the money in his hand.  
  
"Come on, Richie," Tessa took his hand again and together they walked out to Tessa's car.  
  
"Where's Mac?" Richie asked quietly at a stoplight.  
  
"He's still looking for you. I haven't been able to get a hold of him."  
  
"He's out looking for me?" Richie asked; usually the cops were the only ones looking for him.  
  
"Of course, you didn't think we were just going to let you run off? Richie, you're sixteen, we would nev-"  
  
"Seventeen," Richie corrected quietly. "I'm seventeen."  
  
Tessa glanced over at him. "Since when?"  
  
"A while ago."  
  
"Why didn't you tell us?"  
  
"You were kinda busy grounding me," Richie offered.  
  
"We grounded you on your birthday?" Tessa asked. "Why didn't you say anything?"  
  
"I didn't want you to think I was trying to get out of trouble."  
  
"But it was your birthday! If you had told us I wouldn't have made you go to school that day we would have waited before there was any punishment. Didn't you want cake, ice cream, presents?" Tessa didn't understand; every kid liked getting presents.  
  
"You guys had already done so much for me; I didn't want to ask for anything."  
  
"Richie, you're part of the family now. Your birthday is important. When was it?"  
  
"Twentieth."  
  
"What do you want?" Richie didn't answer. "Anything at all?" Still no response. "When you decide, you just tell us and it's as good as yours," she assured him reaching over to pat his knee. She quickly drew her hand back when Richie moved out of the way. She pulled the car to a stop behind the store. "Why don't you go get cleaned up, put on something warm, and I'll make you some dinner," she offered.  
  
"Okay."  
  
Tessa was just beginning to slice the frozen pizza she had made when Richie shuffled into the kitchen wearing the flannel pajamas she had laid out for him. She giggled at the site of him.  
  
"I guess I thought you were bigger," she admitted with a smile. The sleeves hung down to his knuckles, the shirt half way down his thighs, and the pants gathered at his ankles and slid under his heels when he walked. The size of his clothes combined with this still damp hair hanging in his eyes made him look as if he was a little kid in his father's clothes.  
  
"They're fine," Richie assured her, grinning for the first time since he had returned. He knew he looked about twelve but they were comfortable and warm; a far cry from the wet jeans and thin jacket he had been wearing the past three days. "Pizza, huh?" he asked sliding up onto a stool at the counter.  
  
"I would have made you something a little healthier, but we haven't been to the store."  
  
"You just want to hear me complain," Richie shot back reaching for a slice.  
  
"Use a plate," Tessa ordered handing him one. She was relieved that he seemed to have readjusted quickly to being home again. She watched him cover the pizza in parmesan cheese and crushed red pepper before eating it.  
  
"Hot!" he yelled through a mouthful of melted cheese as it burned the roof of his mouth. Tessa smiled and quickly got him a soda from the refrigerator. He took it and downed half of it before he realized what she had given him. "Thought I wasn't supposed to have cokes," he said slyly still clutching the can as if she might take it back.  
  
"Tonight is a special occasion. But don't think that means you should just run away so you can get another soda."  
  
"Tess?" Duncan called entering her workshop. He looked up and spotted Richie through the glass window of the loft. He ran into the kitchen and stared at him for a second. "What the hell did you think you were doing?" he demanded in a booming voice.  
  
Richie's face paled. "I'm sorry," he whispered in a shaky voice. This was the homecoming he was used to.  
  
"Sorry?" Duncan repeated. "You're sorry? How could you be so stupid!" he continued as he stalked across the floor to the frightened boy. "You could have gotten hurt! Or killed!" Duncan stood on the other side of the counter from Richie.  
  
"I'm sorry," Richie repeated with total fear in his voice.  
  
Duncan paused. "Richie," he said softly. "I shouldn't be yelling at you. But you had us so worried." Without thinking he reached out to put his hand on the boy's shoulder.  
  
With a sharp breath Richie tried to push away from the counter and only succeeded in pushing himself off the stool. He fell backward to the ground hitting his head on the table on his way down.  
  
"Richie!" Both Duncan and Tessa quickly skirted the counter to help him.  
  
"Richie, are you okay?" Duncan asked urgently.  
  
In response Richie groaned and fingered the growing lump on the back of his head.  
  
"Richie, say something. What day is it?"  
  
"I dunno," the boy answered groggily.  
  
"Duncan," Tessa started worriedly.  
  
"Who's the president?" Duncan tried.  
  
"Can't you ask me a question I'd know the answer to if I had hit my head or not?"  
  
"Where are you?"  
  
"That's more like it," Richie said with a smirk; his sense of humor was back, but he still didn't feel like moving. "I'm on the floor."  
  
"Does it hurt much?" Tessa asked gently.  
  
"Waddaya think?"  
  
"No need to get testy," she smiled down at him. "I'll get some aspirin." She got up and went into the bathroom to get the medicine from the cabinet. When she returned to the kitchen Richie was on his feet glaring hard across the kitchen at Duncan.  
  
"That's what you said," he repeated.  
  
"It's not what I meant," Duncan insisted.  
  
"Yeah, it is. I don't know why I thought you would be any different. You're all the same; you start out nice, but the second one little thing goes wrong you go off the deep end!"  
  
"Richie, nothing is going to happen to you!" Duncan yelled. "Why won't you believe me?"  
  
"Because it's pointless to believe anyone; everyone just lies!"  
  
"Richie, have I ever lied to you?"  
  
"I don't know, have you?" Richie shot back.  
  
"That's it, get over here," Duncan ordered sharply.  
  
"Duncan," Tessa started stepping toward him.  
  
"No," he cut her off. "He needs to be taught a lesson. Richie, get over here." Taking a deep breath Richie walked from his corner and stopped directly in front of Duncan.  
  
"What do you want me to do?" he asked emotionlessly. "Are you a 'bend over and grab the table' kinda guy or a 'face me and take it like a man' kinda guy?"  
  
Duncan pulled out a chair from the table and sat in it. "I believe the punishment should fit the actions," he explained. He reached up and grabbed Richie by the arm and before Richie could react, he was laying on his stomach on Duncan's lap. "You act like a child; you should be punished like a child."  
  
"You're gonna spank me?" Richie asked; the idea was almost funny.  
  
"Duncan, if you lay a hand on him." Tessa warned.  
  
"This is what he wants," Duncan assured her.  
  
"No I don't!" Richie protested from his precarious position.  
  
"Then why do you keep expecting me to hit you?" Duncan asked shooting a pointed look at Tessa.  
  
"Because it's what you said!"  
  
"I also said I left because I didn't want to hit you, or did you not hear that part?"  
  
"Look, if you're going to do this, can you just do it so I can go to bed?" Richie asked bitterly.  
  
"No, Richie, this isn't something that can just be over. This isn't as simple as you did something wrong and need to be punished. This is a trust issue. You don't trust us and I don't understand why. What have we ever done to you?" Richie didn't answer. "Where did you get the idea that we had it out for you? Why do you expect us to turn on you? Is that what you want?" Richie still didn't answer. "Is it?" Duncan repeated giving Richie's rump a half-hearted swat before shifting the boy's position so he was sitting in Duncan's lap instead of slung across it. "Why the sudden change of attitude? I thought you liked it here."  
  
"I did," Richie answered softly. "I liked the way things used to be."  
  
"What's wrong with the way things are now? Is school really that torturous?"  
  
"It's not school."  
  
"Is it not being able to work? The sodas? Bedtimes? Richie, all that is just because we love you. We want everything to work out for you."  
  
Richie stood up. "That's the problem."  
  
"Which one?" Tessa asked.  
  
"The love one. I'm not ready. Please don't make me."  
  
"Ready to be loved?" Tessa asked. "Richie, whether you want us to or not, we love you."  
  
"No," Richie pleaded. "You can't. I don't want to. I'm not ready."  
  
"Richie, you're not making any sense. What are you talking about?"  
  
"Please," Richie said again. "I can't." He looked back and forth between the two as he slowly backed out of the kitchen.  
  
"Can't what?" Tessa asked.  
  
"You know."  
  
"No, we don't."  
  
"I'm sure you would if I said 'I love you, too'." Richie took a step back and slid on the tile when his pajama bottoms slipped under his heel. His hands shot out trying to find something to catch himself on. his right had caught the edge of the tray from the tea set and he brought the delicate china crashing down on top of him. The cups and saucers shattered as they hit the tile. For a second Richie lay motionless among the shattered remains of the antique tea set. "Aw, man," he whispered sitting up. He set his hand down on what used to be the teapot. With a loud pop! It broke again under his weight. "Ow!" He put his other hand over the wound and tried to figure out what to do.  
  
"Don't do that," Duncan ordered kneeling beside him and taking the bleeding hand in his own. "There's glass in it. Tessa, can you get the tweezers?" Once again Tessa disappeared to the medicine cabinet to return to the pair yelling at each other.  
  
"Don't touch it!" Richie yelled. "It hurts!"  
  
"I know that, but I have to get the teapot out of your hand. Now hold still," he ordered taking the tweezers from Tessa and diligently removing the shards from the boy's hand. "I think that's all of it," he announced after a minute. Tessa handed him a gauze square soaked in antiseptic. "This will hurt," Duncan warned before he began to gently clean the blood off Richie's hand. Richie flinched slightly but said nothing. "There we go, all done," he said as he finished bandaging the wound. "Now sit still until we get all this cleaned up. I don't want you stepping on anything."  
  
After they got everything cleaned up Tessa gave Richie two aspirin and Duncan gave him a mug of hot tea that he had made with a special blend of roots that Darius had given him. The special tea worked, before he had drunk half of it Richie's eyes began to droop. Duncan made him finish it anyway. When he did Tessa took him to his room and tucked him into bed.  
  
"I think maybe you should call that friend of yours," Duncan admitted when Tessa came to help him clean up the dishes from the dinner Richie never ate. "I thought this was all an attention thing, but he has a real problem. And we can't help him."  
  
"I'll call her in the morning," Tessa decided. They worked silently for a minute then Tessa began to giggle.  
  
"What's so funny?" Duncan asked.  
  
"You were going to spank him." 


	9. ch 9

"You guys think I'm crazy?" Richie asked as soon as Tessa's psychiatrist friend was mentioned the next afternoon at lunch.  
  
"No," Tessa assured him.  
  
"Then why do you want me to go to a shrink?"  
  
"Because we think there might be some holes in your thinking. we just want to make sure everything is okay," Duncan tried.  
  
"Holes in my thinking?" Richie repeated. "You think I'm crazy."  
  
"We don't understand some of the things you say," Tessa said. "We don't want to come to any wrong conclusions just because of a misinterpretation."  
  
"You think I'm crazy."  
  
"No, that's not what we mean."  
  
"I don't get it. Look, I'm sorry I ran away, all right? I just panicked. I was scared; it won't happen again."  
  
"That's not it, Richie," Duncan said. "Some of the things you say and do worry us a bit, that's all."  
  
"So you want me to go to a shrink?"  
  
"Just to talk to her. She can figure out why you do and say the things you do." Tessa got up from her seat and went to sit next to Richie. "What's the worst that can happen? We find out there's nothing wrong."  
  
"And if there is something. different," Duncan said trying to think of a word that wouldn't offend Richie. "We can try to fix it. What can it hurt?"  
  
"I don't want to," Richie insisted.  
  
"Just once, that's all we're asking."  
  
"No."  
  
"Please, Richie, we worry about you," Tessa told him.  
  
"You don't need to."  
  
"But we do. This is really important to us."  
  
Richie looked at Tessa; she had the same look in her eye that she had when she picked him up at the police station. Richie sighed. Why did she have to be so nice? "Fine," he mumbled. "But I'm making no promises. If she starts talking about something I don't want to, I'm not."  
  
"All you have to do is try," she assured him.  
  
. . . . . .  
  
The next day Richie missed another day of school to go see Dr. Karen Bliss, a friend of Tessa's from aerobics.  
  
"I changed my mind," Richie said stopping short on the walk outside the building. "I don't want to do this."  
  
"Please, Richie," Tessa almost begged. "It's only an hour."  
  
"Please don't make me."  
  
"We're not going to make you do anything," Duncan told him. "But we really want you to do this. Just once. We'll be in the waiting room and if you get uncomfortable we can leave."  
  
"You promise?"  
  
"You have my word."  
  
Richie took a deep breath. "Okay."  
  
For the second time since she'd known him, Richie allowed Tessa to take him by the hand. "Come," she said gently giving him a little tug. Richie nodded slightly and followed her lead.  
  
Dr. Bliss' office was warm and inviting. It was decorated entirely in neutral creams and other earth tones. There were the usual magazines on a coffee table and coffeepot in the corner.  
  
The receptionist smiled at them brightly as they entered. "You must be Richie," she said practically ignoring Duncan and Tessa. "Karen will be right out. Go ahead and take a seat."  
  
Richie nodded slightly and allowed Tessa to lead him to a seat in the corner. "You'll like Karen," Tessa whispered to him patting his hand. "She's very nice. and very pretty." Had it been any other moment Richie would have laughed at her statement. As it was he was too consumed with trying to stop the rising panic to notice it.  
  
After a couple minutes a young woman exited the office. At first Richie thought she was a patient. She was wearing jeans and a blouse, little makeup and her dark hair was pulled into a simple ponytail.  
  
"Hello, Tessa," she greeted approaching them.  
  
"Karen, how are you?" Tessa asked standing up.  
  
"I'm fine, thank you. Are you Richie?" she asked looking down at the boy who hadn't moved from his chair.  
  
"That's him," Duncan said gesturing Richie to stand. He did.  
  
"It's nice to meet you, Richie," she said warmly extending her hand. "I'm Dr. Bliss, but everyone calls me Karen. Do you mind if I call you Richie or would you prefer something else?"  
  
"It's fine," he replied softly keeping both hands clamped firmly behind his back. He was already uncomfortable.  
  
"Richie it is," she nodded seemingly unfazed by his reaction, but she had already started taking notes in her head. "Well, why don't you come with me? Unless you want Tessa or Duncan to come, too. Or both?"  
  
"Maybe you should start by yourselves," Tessa suggested. She and Duncan had already decided to remove themselves from the situation unless Richie refused to cooperate otherwise.  
  
"Is that okay with you?" Karen asked Richie. "It's your decision."  
  
"I don't care," he mumbled.  
  
"Okay, if you change your mind just say so and they can come in, okay?"  
  
"Whatever."  
  
"Why don't you go on in a take a seat wherever you want and I'll be there in just a minute, okay?"  
  
Richie looked at Tessa and she smiled at him as she gave him a gentle nudge toward the office. "Go on."  
  
Once Richie was out of the room Karen looked at Tessa. "That's him?"  
  
"That's him."  
  
"Let me make sure I have this right before I go in there. He doesn't let you touch him?"  
  
"He just started letting me," Tessa said. "He started two days ago; he let me hold his hand. He still goes back and forth though."  
  
"He won't let me unless he's hurt," Duncan added.  
  
"And he said he had a problem with being loved?" Karen asked.  
  
"The other night. We were trying to figure out why he was so mad at us. He insisted nothing bothered him until we said we did it all because we love him," Tessa explained.  
  
"I see," Karen nodded. "Well, I'm going to go talk to him. And I have to warn you that if I don't see this as a threat to his well being or as something that just he and I can work out that I can't tell you anything he tells me. But since he's seventeen if I feel there's reason to, I will tell you."  
  
"Okay," Duncan consented.  
  
"I'll be back in a little while." Karen went to join Richie. "Comfy?" she asked in slight amusement when she spotted Richie in the big leather armchair behind her desk.  
  
"You said anywhere," he shrugged letting his attitude take over for his emotions.  
  
"That I did," she consented sitting in the chair on the other side of the desk. "Can you hand me that notepad?" she asked gesturing to the one that sat in front of Richie. "And a pen?" Richie handed them over wondering how long she was going to let him get away with this. "Thank you. So, Richie. short for Richard, right?"  
  
"Albert," Richie corrected straight-faced.  
  
She smiled. "Really? Never heard that one before. Usually it'd be Al or Bert. Why Richie?"  
  
"Cause."  
  
"That's as good a reason as any." She jotted down a few notes on her pad. 'Want for dominance, sarcastic. possibly attempt to isolate himself?' She looked up at Richie. "Do you know why you're here?"  
  
"Cause Mac and Tessa brought me."  
  
"Why?"  
  
"Cause they think I'm crazy."  
  
"No, they don't. They're just worried."  
  
"How come?" Richie asked. Karen's warm smile, gentle voice, and casual demeanor were staring to melt his attempts to stay disconnected. "I didn't do anything."  
  
"Maybe that's the problem. What is a typical day at your house like?"  
  
"Wake up, eat breakfast, go to school, come home, chill for a while, do my homework, eat dinner, finish my homework, go to bed," he rattled off.  
  
"Do you eat breakfast and dinner as a family?"  
  
Richie seemed off put by the suggestion that they were a family. "We eat together."  
  
"Do you talk?"  
  
"Yeah."  
  
"What about?"  
  
"Stuff."  
  
"What kind of stuff?" Karen was scribbling as they spoke.  
  
Richie shrugged. "School, work, sports, stuff. it just depends on what happened that day."  
  
"Do you ever get in trouble?"  
  
"Sometimes."  
  
"Do they punish you?"  
  
"Mac does; Tessa doesn't like to."  
  
"Who do you like better Duncan or Tessa?" Karen asked leaning towards him.  
  
"Huh?"  
  
"Who do you like better?" she repeated.  
  
"Neither one."  
  
"You have to have a preference," she prodded. "Just because you like one more than the other doesn't mean anything. There's always one you lean more towards."  
  
"Not me," he insisted.  
  
"If you had a problem. say you got in trouble at school, who would you go to first?"  
  
"Tessa."  
  
"Why?"  
  
Richie thought for a minute. "Because she doesn't do anything. Mac gets real mad."  
  
"Okay," Karen wrote it down. "If you were physically hurt, who would you go to?"  
  
"Mac," Richie answered after a pause. "Cause he always seems to know what to do."  
  
"What about emotionally. if your girlfriend broke up with you?"  
  
"I don't have a girlfriend."  
  
"If you did."  
  
"Tessa, 'cause she's more. um." he searched for the word.  
  
"Gentle? Nurturing? Motherly?"  
  
Richie looked at Karen in sudden realization. Tessa was motherly toward him and he was encouraging it. "Yeah," he whispered.  
  
"Would you tell Duncan?"  
  
"If he asked."  
  
"Why?"  
  
"Tessa would understand more."  
  
"Why do you say that?"  
  
"I don't know," he shrugged.  
  
"If you had really great news, say, you asked a girl at school to a dance and she said yes, who would you tell first?"  
  
"Whoever I saw first," Richie answered.  
  
"Would you get real excited?"  
  
"Maybe, depends on the girl."  
  
"Say it was the prettiest most popular senior in the school. Would you jump up and down?"  
  
"No," Richie grinned slightly.  
  
"Would you scream?"  
  
"No."  
  
"Would you hug them?"  
  
"No."  
  
"Why not?" Karen asked positioning her pen ready to write down his exact response.  
  
"Cause."  
  
"Because why?"  
  
"Just 'cause."  
  
"There has to be a reason, Richie. Why don't you let them touch you?"  
  
"Cause," he insisted.  
  
"Do you and your friends ever touch? Do you ever try to hug or kiss a girl?"  
  
"Yeah."  
  
"Why not Duncan and Tessa?"  
  
Richie looked down and the highly polished oak desk. He took a deep breath. "Cause I don't want them to think that I love them," he finally answered.  
  
"Do you, though?"  
  
"I think so."  
  
"Why don't you want to tell them?" Karen leaned forward highly intrigued by his answer.  
  
"Because I don't like what happens next. I don't want to, not with them."  
  
"Don't want to what?"  
  
"Do. what people do when they're in love. Especially with Mac, it hurts with guys."  
  
"Richie, I don't know what you're talking about," Karen insisted. "I think I have an idea, but I'm hoping it's wrong."  
  
"How many options are there?" he scoffed. "You fall in love, you have sex, end of story." 


	10. ch 10

Warning: Contains a sensitive topic, mainly rape that happened in the past. No graphic details, but vague discussion about it.  
  
*****  
  
Duncan, Tessa, and the receptionist looked up startled as Richie burst out of the office.  
  
"Richie?" Duncan asked as the boy stomped toward them.  
  
"I wanna go home," he replied in a near growl.  
  
"What happened?" Tessa stood up.  
  
"I want to go home!"  
  
"Richie, you have to tell us why."  
  
"She doesn't know what she's talking about."  
  
"What did she say?" Duncan asked as Tessa went to find Karen.  
  
"I don't want to talk about it. I tried, okay? I talked to her. You promised we would leave if I wanted to."  
  
"I did," Duncan nodded. "Are you sure this wasn't a misunderstanding?"  
  
"She said it pretty clear. And it's a load of crap."  
  
"Duncan," Tessa said from the office doorway. "We need to talk about this."  
  
"No!" Richie insisted.  
  
Duncan put both hands on Richie's shoulders and refused to let the boy squirm away. "You don't have to say anything. Just go in there with me and Tess so we can work this all out."  
  
"Mac, please. I don't like her," Richie told him.  
  
"Do you want to wait out here?"  
  
"Can I?"  
  
"Sure." Duncan steered Richie to a seat and sat him down. "I'll be right back."  
  
Duncan followed Tessa into Karen's office. "We should have warned you, there's a certain combination of bluntness and subtlety you have to use with him unless you want him to go off the deep end," he apologized waiting for both women to sit before taking his seat.  
  
Karen took a deep breath. "There was no way to tell him what I told him gently. I know why he acts the way he does."  
  
"Why?"  
  
"He was lied to as a young child by one set of foster parents. Then later on the lie was reinforced by a babysitter. He acts the way he does, getting into trouble, stubborn, bad attitude, and what not to remove the possibility of such affection. He was told that love meant something bad and has never been proved otherwise."  
  
"What was he told?"  
  
"That the love between a man and a woman was no different than the love between parent and child," Karen explained.  
  
"That wasn't the way you told him, was it?" Duncan asked.  
  
"I was blunt with him, used terms he would understand and he understood, but didn't believe me."  
  
"That's why he's so upset."  
  
"Duncan, we need to talk to him," Tessa said.  
  
"I'll get him." Duncan stood and went to the waiting room. "Richie, come here would you?" Richie glared at him from across the room. "Just for a minute so we can get this all straightened out."  
  
With a deep sigh, Richie stood and went to talk it out.  
  
. . . . . .  
  
The next day Richie called for a ride home from school. When Duncan showed up Richie was sitting on the steps of the school with a pile of books at his feet. Duncan whistled between his teeth as Richie dropped the pile in the back seat. Richie silently slid into the car without opening the door.  
  
"So I take it you're starting to see the draw backs of running away?"  
  
"I'd be doing all the work anyway," Richie returned quietly.  
  
"Not all at once. Do you want some ice cream?" Duncan offered. "We could drive by on the way home."  
  
"That's okay, I got a lot of work to. Thanks though."  
  
"Okay, maybe some other time." Duncan put the car in gear and headed home. Ever since the meeting with Karen yesterday morning Richie had seemed mechanical. Only doing what he was supposed to do. When he wasn't assigned a task he seemed to sit around and stare into space. When they got to the loft Duncan helped Richie get all his stuff inside and settled him down at the kitchen table. "Need any help?"  
  
"No. Can I use the computer after dinner? I have a paper."  
  
"Sure thing, tough guy. Well, I guess I'll let you work. If you need any help I'm in the office, okay?"  
  
Richie nodded and opened his history book.  
  
It took him four days but Richie got caught up in all his classes. Duncan and Tessa were once again worried about his behavior. He was completely detached and very rarely spoke. He let them touch him, not because he was okay with it, but because he didn't care anymore. It seemed to Duncan that Richie was at the depression and denial stages of acceptance.  
  
One night Tessa couldn't sleep. She didn't know why. She had a feeling that something was wrong. As quietly as she could she slipped out of bed and went to check on Richie.  
  
"Duncan!" she ran back into their room.  
  
"What?" he woke with a start.  
  
"He's gone."  
  
"Are you serious?" Duncan sprang out of bed.  
  
"He's not in his bed."  
  
"He can't have gotten far," he continued as he threw on some sweats. "I'll go look for him. He might come back, so you stay here." He gave her a quick kiss and ran down the back stairs and out the door.  
  
Tessa anxiously paced the loft for a ten minutes before she noticed the soft sniffing noise coming from down stairs. Curiously she went to the top of the stairs and listened. She heard it again. She walked down to the store and tracked the noise to the corner under the stairs by the bathroom.  
  
"Richie?"  
  
He looked up at her wiping at his cheeks. "Sorry, I was trying not to wake you guys up."  
  
"What's wrong?" She sat next to him on the floor. His face crumpled and he sniffed a couple more times. "Richie, darling, what happened?"  
  
"They raped me!" he whimpered pulling his knees to his chest. "They said they loved me." Tessa's eyes filled with tears as she watched years of pain and self-isolation surface in the boy sitting beside her.  
  
"Oh, baby," she murmured softly putting her arm around his shoulders.  
  
"Why did I believe them?" he continued in a tight voice. "Everyone else knew it was wrong, why didn't I?"  
  
"You were a child, still a baby. How were you to know?"  
  
"I mean, it makes sense doesn't it?" Richie asked. "You and Mac are in love and you do it. Angie's parents are in love and they do it."  
  
"Of course," she assured him. She never would have thought to apply that sort of love to any other kind of relationship than what she had with Duncan, but if she had been told at six that that was what was to happen; she would have believed it. "You are not to blame."  
  
"I feel so disgusting," he told her still crying. "It was bad enough when I just didn't like it. Now that I know it was. God, Tess, I was raped. And I didn't even know it."  
  
"You were just a baby, there was nothing you could have done," she soothed putting his head on her shoulder and rocking him slightly. He cried and all but crawled into her lap. He shifted slightly and wrapped his arms tightly around her waist as if he was scared she would leave him. Tessa allowed a few tears slide down her cheeks; some for his pain, some for sympathy, and some for pride. They had broken the barrier that had been dividing them for so long. The boy who hated to be touched was clinging to her, silently pleading to be held. An hour later Richie was asleep with his head in her lap when Duncan came back.  
  
"Tessa?" he called down into the store.  
  
"Shhh!" she hissed stroking Richie's hair to quiet his stirring.  
  
"Tess?" Duncan asked when he found them under the stairs.  
  
"He was here the whole time," she whispered still stroking his hair. "He's past denial. He realized what happened."  
  
"Is he okay?"  
  
"I think he will be. Maybe we could try talking to Karen again, now that he realizes."  
  
"Let's get him upstairs." Duncan squatted down and slid his arms under Richie's shoulders and knees and picked the small figure up. "He's had a long day." About halfway up the stairs Richie woke up and didn't look very happy about being carried. "Richie, stop squirming!" Duncan ordered when he nearly dropped the boy.  
  
"Put me down!" Richie demanded.  
  
"Okay, sorry." Duncan did as he was told. "We didn't want to wake you."  
  
"Stop looking at me like that," Richie said edging away from him.  
  
"Like what? Be careful." Duncan grabbed Richie by the arm as the boy baked toward the edge of the stairs.  
  
"Let go of me!" Richie jerked away.  
  
"Richie, go up the stairs and then be stubborn, you're going to fall," Duncan ordered grabbing the boy's arm again and pulling him to the wall.  
  
"Stop it!" Richie jerked away again and just barely caught himself on the wall before tumbling backward down the steps.  
  
"What's the matter with you?" Duncan once again secured Richie's safety by holding onto his arm.  
  
"Nothing's the matter with me!"  
  
"Go upstairs."  
  
"No!"  
  
Duncan looked helplessly at Tessa. "Richie," she said softly from behind him. "Would you like some tea?"  
  
"No!"  
  
"It might help you sleep."  
  
"I don't want any!"  
  
"Then go to bed, you need to sleep," she told him removing Duncan's grip and replacing it with her own more gentle one. She maneuvered herself between Duncan and Richie then slid her grip down his arm and to his hand. "You'll feel better soon, I promise. Maybe not in the morning, but soon. And no matter how cranky you get, or how stubborn you are, or how much trouble you get into at school, Duncan and I will be here. We just want to help and despite what you may think, you can't do this on your own. You've tried for too long."  
  
"I don't want anybody's help," Richie glowered but still kept his hand in the security of Tessa's.  
  
"But you need it," she assured him as she began leading him up the stairs.  
  
Duncan watched the two disappear into the loft. He knew he had done the right thing agreeing to get Richie in to see Karen, but he wished he hadn't when he saw how upset Richie was. And Duncan had to admit he was jealous that Richie had picked Tessa to warm up to first both before and after the truth came out. There had to be a reason Richie still seemed to be uncomfortable whenever Duncan touched him.  
  
. . . . . .  
  
Two days later Duncan awoke to the sound of cartoons in the living room. He wondered down the hall and found Richie sitting in front of the television watching cartoons and doing some homework on the coffee table.  
  
"Do you even have the slightest clue if you've done your work correctly?" Duncan asked startling Richie.  
  
"Um. yeah," he blushed, picking up the remote and changing the channel.  
  
"What were you watching?"  
  
"Ren and Stimpy," he answered after a minute.  
  
"What's that?"  
  
"A show," he shrugged pretending to concentrate on his algebra homework.  
  
"Do you have plans for today?" Duncan asked already knowing the answer.  
  
"Nope."  
  
"Because I was thinking of going to the Sharks game this afternoon and I'd hate to go alone. But, Tessa doesn't like basketball, so I was hoping you'd like to go."  
  
"To the Shark's game? As in going to the arena and sitting in the stands and watching the game there, live, in person?" Richie rambled excitedly.  
  
"Yeah, I'll even see how close we can get to the Shark's bench."  
  
"Yeah?"  
  
Duncan could tell he found the proper bonding tool. "You can even drive."  
  
"Um, I think you'd better," Richie answered closing his book.  
  
"Do you not know how to drive?"  
  
"No one's ever taught me," he admitted.  
  
"Then you have to drive to lunch," Duncan decided. "But I'm not letting a new driver anywhere near the madness of the arena parking lot."  
  
"You're gonna teach me?"  
  
"Sure, on one condition; you finish your algebra before we leave at one. If it's not done no lesson today."  
  
"Lesson for what?" Tessa asked appearing in the doorway in her robe.  
  
"Mac's gonna teach me to drive!" Richie exclaimed quickly opening his book again. "But I gotta get this done first. um can someone help with number twelve?"  
  
At twelve thirty Duncan came up from the store and found Tessa and Richie bent over his homework as Tessa talked him through the steps of the quadratic formula.  
  
"How's it going in here?" he asked.  
  
"I'm almost done," Richie answered with a huge grin.  
  
"He's getting a little excited," Tessa added.  
  
"I hadn't noticed." Duncan smiled down at the boy who was practically bouncing with energy. "So will he be ready in half an hour?" Duncan asked Tessa.  
  
"I don't know." she answered sharing his smile. "I don't think he can quite remember the formula."  
  
"X equals negative B plus or minus the square root of B squared minus 4AC all divided by 2A," Richie rattled off importantly.  
  
Tessa laughed. "I'm not sure if this is a good idea."  
  
"Tessa!" Richie whined too excited about the game to notice she was joking.  
  
"I don't know, Rich, if Tessa says this is a bad idea," Duncan shrugged.  
  
"Mac, no! C'mon, please? I've been busting my butt all morning for this!"  
  
"He's got a point, Tess."  
  
"Fine," she huffed playfully. "I'll just stay here all by myself and relish in the quiet."  
  
"Thanks, Tessa!" Richie began to squirm out from under the coffee table.  
  
"Not so fast." She grabbed him by his shirt. "You still have two problems left and you're not leaving until you have them both right."  
  
"Fine," Richie grumbled sliding his legs under the table again.  
  
As it turned out it took Richie until 1:15 to satisfy Tessa, but Duncan didn't have the heart to carry out his threat and kept himself busy until Richie came thundering down the stairs having already changed into a red T- shirt and Seacouver Sharks hat.  
  
"Ready?" he asked excitedly.  
  
"Sure thing. You're done early," Duncan answered shutting down the computer.  
  
"Actually," Richie admitted. "I'm done late. So no driving, huh?"  
  
"Well, since I wasn't done either, I don't see why you can't still drive to lunch."  
  
If possible Richie got more excited. "Really?"  
  
"Sure, but you have to do what I tell you. And if you break any of the rules you'll pulling over, got it?"  
  
"Got it!" 


	11. ch 11

"Okay, usually I'd start out with how a car works, but you know that, right?" Duncan asked as Richie settled himself in the driver's seat.  
  
"Of course. I could disassemble and reassemble that engine in an hour tops," Richie bragged.  
  
Duncan doubted it was true but continued. "The first thing you have to do is adjust all your mirrors so you can see all around your car with minimal movement."  
  
"See around my car," Richie repeated happily. Who would have guessed he would learn to drive in a '55 Thunderbird.  
  
"MY car that you are BORROWING," Duncan corrected. "If you mess it up, you're paying for it."  
  
"Right," Richie nodded adjusting his side view mirror. "Can you move that one in a little?" he asked. "Perfect. Okay, now what?" he asked eagerly putting his hand out for the keys.  
  
"Do you know how to work the blinkers?"  
  
"Up right, down left," Richie mumbled to himself as he messed with the blinkers. "Got it," he declared. "Now can I start it?"  
  
"Okay." Duncan handed him the keys. "Are you ready?"  
  
"Uh-huh." Richie started the car.  
  
"Okay, put your foot on the brake and shift it into drive," Duncan instructed. He had pulled the car around front so he could save backing up for another lesson. "Check for traffic. and take your foot off the brake and slowly pull out." Richie did as he was told. "Good job. Now speed up to match the traffic around you.not faster than them, match them."  
  
"This.is so.cool!"  
  
"Calm down and watch the road. Okay there's red light up there, start slowing down now. Richie, put your foot on the break. put your foot on the break. Stop!" Richie stopped just before running the light. "Remember what I told you about listening and following the rules?" Duncan asked. Richie nodded slowly. "So when I tell you to put your foot on the brake what are you going to do?"  
  
"Put my foot on the break?" Richie offered.  
  
"Exactly." Duncan looked up at the stoplight. "Let's try this listening thing again. When the light turns green count to three then go."  
  
"Got'cha."  
  
The light turned and Richie waited before leaving the intersection. "Good job," Duncan commented. "Think you're ready to change lanes?"  
  
"Yeah."  
  
"Okay, you're going to go left, put on your blinker."  
  
"Left, down," Richie mumbled.  
  
"Check your mirror; do you see a car?"  
  
"No."  
  
"Look behind you."  
  
Richie glanced over his shoulder and to his surprise saw a little Civic coop just to his left. "Where did that guy come from?!"  
  
"He was there. You can't fully trust your mirrors, you have to look yourself."  
  
"So I noticed."  
  
"Okay, he's slowing down for you now. Can you see him in your mirror?"  
  
"Yeah."  
  
"Look behind you again, can you go?"  
  
"I think so."  
  
Duncan nodded. "Then gently turn the wheel. and you just changed lanes. Why don't we try turning at the next light." Duncan talked Richie through making a left-hand turn and he executed it almost perfectly, except for hitting the curb.  
  
"Sorry," Richie quickly apologized hoping Duncan wouldn't make him pull over; he was having too much fun driving.  
  
"It happens," Duncan assured him. "Let's try it again at this light."  
  
Duncan had Richie drive in circles until he got the hang of a left-hand turns then had him drive in circles in the opposite direction for a while making right-hand turns.  
  
"Mac, I'm startin' to get dizzy," Richie complained.  
  
"Do you want to stop?  
  
"No! I just want to go in a straight line for awhile, that's all."  
  
"Fair enough. Where do you want to go to lunch and you can take the long way there."  
  
"I don't know," Richie shrugged.  
  
"How about, Chuck's?" Duncan suggested. He knew that it was Richie's favorite burger joint.  
  
Richie grinned. "Okay! um how do I get there from here?"  
  
"You don't know?"  
  
"I know how to get there on foot."  
  
Duncan smiled. He forgot Richie walked everywhere and knew every short cut in the city.  
  
"Turn right on sixth."  
  
. . . . . .  
  
"Don't tell Tessa," Duncan told him as they entered the fifties style diner. "But you can get whatever you want."  
  
"So I can get a soda?" Richie asked hopefully; it had been months since he had been allowed sodas.  
  
"I said whatever you want didn't I?"  
  
Richie grinned broadly and shook his head. "Tessa's going to kill you if she finds out about this."  
  
"Oh, so is she the only one who gets to spoil you?" Duncan asked.  
  
"You just seem to like the punishment part more," Richie answered before thinking.  
  
If Duncan was hurt by the comment he didn't let it show. "Someone has to keep you in line," he jabbed as they chose a booth. He had been expecting to get a comment like that sooner or later from the boy. At least it didn't really seem to bother Richie that Duncan was the punisher.  
  
"Are you two ready?" the waiter asked. Duncan looked at Richie who nodded with a slightly mischievous grin.  
  
"Go ahead, Rich," Duncan prompted.  
  
"Bacon cheeseburger, medium rare," he started. "Mayo and mustard, no ketchup, extra pickles, curly fries and onion rings. And Dr. Pepper to drink." He smiled at Duncan, obviously pleased with his order.  
  
"You?"  
  
"Burger, well done, mustard, no onions, and a side salad with ranch. Water to drink," Duncan ordered. "Are you planning on eating at the game?" he asked one the waiter left.  
  
"Can I?" The thought had never occurred to Richie.  
  
"I have a feeling we'll be there for dinner. The game doesn't start until four. I thought you'd want the complete experience."  
  
"Cool!" That seemed to be Richie's word for the day. They talked about Richie's driving during lunch. Duncan pointed out one good point for everything that needed improvement, keeping in mind Richie had a fragile ego.  
  
"But you really surprised me, I thought there would be a lot more panicked moments with you behind the wheel," Duncan finished.  
  
"You really think I did okay?"  
  
"Have I ever lied to you?"  
  
Richie made a face. "Last time I answered the question you tried to spank me."  
  
"I got my point across didn't I?"  
  
"I guess," he shrugged looking down.  
  
"Hey, Rich, not to ruin the evening, but maybe you should start thinking about going to see Karen again. I know last time you didn't get the best news.but she can help you. It's entirely up to you, but Tess and I think it's a good idea."  
  
"Can we change the subject?" Richie asked awkwardly dunking a fry into some ranch dressing.  
  
"I shouldn't have brought it up," Duncan admitted. "Maybe you could drive to school Monday," he offered.  
  
"I can?" Richie asked perking up again.  
  
"Sure, and I'll even pick you up so you can drive home, too."  
  
"Cool!"  
  
"But if I end up picking you up after detention, deal's off."  
  
Richie nodded. "Seems reasonable."  
  
"So are you ready? I thought you might like to have a look around the arena before the game started."  
  
Richie quickly ate the last onion ring and finished his soda. "Let's go!"  
  
. . . . . .  
  
"Mac, this is awesome!" Richie exclaimed for the fifth time as he all but skipped across the arena parking lot.  
  
"Do I need to get a leash?" Duncan asked. Richie's behavior reminded him of an overzealous puppy.  
  
Richie grinned at him and forced himself to calm down. "Thanks, Mac, this is."  
  
"Awesome? Cool?"  
  
"Uh-huh."  
  
They got their tickets four rows from the court just to the left of the home bench.  
  
"Do you mind if I go look around?" Richie asked squirming in his seat.  
  
"Sure go for it, just be careful and be back before the game starts."  
  
"Yes, Dad," Richie grumbled with a crooked grin and a wink.  
  
"Joel," Duncan returned. Richie looked at him and just laughed.  
  
"You are weird."  
  
Duncan waited a few minutes then got up to follow him. To anyone else the teen would have been lost in the sea of red and black Seacouver Sharks attire. Duncan utilized the fact that he could feel Richie, but Richie couldn't feel him to follow the boy to the souvenir shop. He watched the boy look around at all the shirts, hats, mugs, key chains, little basketballs and stare for a good five minutes at the team jerseys. When Richie glanced at his watch and turned to leave Duncan went to a refreshment stand to get some drinks to have an excuse if Richie beat him back to the seats. As it turned out the boy either got distracted or lost because Duncan beat him by a couple minutes.  
  
"Have fun?" he asked as Richie sat next to him.  
  
"This place is huge!"  
  
"So are the drinks. You like Dr. Pepper, right?" Duncan asked handing Richie a large cup.  
  
"Thanks."  
  
"So where all did you go?"  
  
"I just walked around and checked everything out."  
  
They made small talk for a couple minutes before Richie ended up in the middle of a friendly debate with a father and son pair as to who was the best player on the Sharks. Richie won after citing random statistical facts about his favorite, Zivney, and reminding the guy next to him of all his favorite player's faults. A few minutes after that the game started and Richie was gone. He yelled at the players which play they should run, cheered them on when they did well, and encouraged them when they messed up. The word fanatic seemed to have been invented to describe Richie. After the first quarter Duncan sent Richie to get hotdogs so he could ask the father that was sitting on Richie's right, the man who lost the argument, a few questions. After the second quarter Duncan made an excuse about having to go to the bathroom and left. Nearly half an hour later he returned to find Richie once again completely absorbed in the game. Not until Duncan dropped a bag in his lap did Richie notice his return.  
  
"What's this?" Richie asked.  
  
"A birthday present," Duncan explained. "Open it."  
  
Richie gave Duncan a 'what have you done this time' look and reached into the bag. "Holy crap!" He held up the brand new Sharks jersey.  
  
"I overheard your conversation earlier. Ziveny's your man, right?"  
  
"Thanks, Mac!"  
  
"Put it on." Richie slid it over his head and looked down at it. His new jersey seemed to be the perfect addition to his current outfit. "Now you look like a fan." Duncan reached over and swatted at the bill of Richie's hat. "Happy Birthday."  
  
Richie grinned shyly. "Thanks, Mac, this is really cool."  
  
"There's more." Duncan produced another. Richie reached in a pulled out glass box with a mini basketball inside. "It's autographed," he explained turning the box in the boy's hands so he could see all the signatures. "I thought you'd like it." Richie tried to think of something to say, but was stumped. Nobody had done anything like this for him before.  
  
"This thing is real expensive. Geese, Mac."  
  
"It's not everyday my boy turns seventeen," Duncan answered quietly.  
  
"Well, technically," Richie started. "This was my second seve-"  
  
"Don't 'technically' me. You know what I mean. This was your first birthday with us; and we missed it because of me. I just want to make it up to you."  
  
"You don't owe me anything, Mac."  
  
"Just shut up and watch the game, huh?" Duncan laughed. His day of bonding had done the trick. Richie was willing to open up to him, just as he was willing to open up to Tessa.  
  
By the time the game finished, they fought the traffic out of the arena parking lot, and got home it was well on its way to one in the morning and Richie was yawning despite his caffeine and sugar induced energy.  
  
"Well, you look like you had a good time," Tessa commented turning off the old romance movie she was watching.  
  
"Tessa, it was so cool! First Mac let me drive for almost an hour, then we went to Chuck's, then we went to the game and I got to look around and there were these really nice people next to us. Our seats were practically in the middle of the court! And we won! And Mac got me this jersey and a ball autographed by the entire team." Richie rambled quickly almost to the point of un-understandable-ness shoving the ball into Tessa's hands.  
  
"So I see," she laughed. "He gave you lots of sugar, too, didn't he?"  
  
"Not a whole lot."  
  
"More than you can handle," she assured him. "So you had fun, right?"  
  
"He sure did," Duncan answered. "He's been grinning all day. How was your evening?"  
  
"I pampered myself."  
  
"Maybe next weekend I'll pamper you," Duncan offered nuzzling her neck. "Unless of course Richie begs me to take him to another game."  
  
Richie grinned. "I'd never beg, but I'm always willing to go."  
  
"Speaking of going, you should go to bed," Tessa told him. "You've had a long day and you have homework tomorrow."  
  
"Do I have to?"  
  
"Yes," Duncan told him. "If you make this difficult, we can't do this anymore."  
  
"Okay, night guys." Richie turned to his room.  
  
"You spoiled him," Tessa accused wagging her finger at Duncan.  
  
"I admit it, I can't say no to him."  
  
"See, now you know my problem. It's going to be hard for you to punish him now, isn't it?"  
  
"I have a new tool," Duncan admitted. "Now that he has a taste for driving, I can suspend lessons for a couple days when he gets in trouble. It should be a little easier on all of us."  
  
"Do you always have a second motive?"  
  
"Only with him."  
  
"Hey, Mac?" Richie asked appearing in the doorway in his pajamas. "About what we were talking about at lunch. I'll do it."  
  
"Are you sure, Rich? Do you want more time to think about it?"  
  
"I had already been thinking about it before. I'll do it."  
  
"Okay, we'll set up an appointment," Duncan told him giving Richie a slight nod. "Go get some sleep, if you can."  
  
"An appointment with Karen?" Tessa asked once Richie's door closed.  
  
"Yeah," Duncan smiled. "I told him to think about it. I wasn't expecting an answer this soon."  
  
"I'll call her in the morning." Tessa gave Duncan a kiss. "How much soda did you give him?"  
  
"Just a couple. really big ones." 


	12. ch 12

"Hello, Richie," Karen said sweetly ushering him into her office the next Saturday.  
  
"Hi," he answered throwing a glance over his shoulder at Tessa as she settled in the waiting room. Duncan had an unchangeable appointment and couldn't come with them.  
  
"Tessa tells me you've been doing some thinking," she prodded gently as he curled up on the far end of her big leather couch.  
  
"Yeah."  
  
"Are you still mad at me?"  
  
"No."  
  
She smiled. "That's good. Do you want to tell me how it happened?"  
  
"No."  
  
"Okay, we'll start with something less sensitive. What did you do this week?"  
  
"School," he shrugged.  
  
"That's all? You didn't do anything cool?"  
  
Richie thought for a minute. "I went to a basketball game," he offered. "Mac took me."  
  
Karen saw her way in. "Was it fun?"  
  
"Yeah."  
  
"If was just you and Duncan?"  
  
"Yeah, he took me driving and out to lunch before the game."  
  
"So you're learning how to drive?"  
  
"Yeah, Mac's teaching me."  
  
"So you're starting to warm up to Duncan," Karen said.  
  
"What do you mean?"  
  
"You're not so uncomfortable around him. You understand that he loves you and isn't going to do anything to you, right?"  
  
"I know that," Richie told her. "But I still feel weird around him. I'm okay with Tessa, though." He decided not to play games and just get it all off his chest. Everything he said was strictly confidential.  
  
"Do you know why?" Karen asked.  
  
"Mitch," Richie said. "I think it's because of Mitch."  
  
"The babysitter?"  
  
"Yeah."  
  
"What does Mitch have to do with Duncan? Why do you think he is affecting your relationship?"  
  
"I don't know. But every time Mac does something really cool, I think about Mitch. And it makes me kinda scared."  
  
"Do you think maybe it's because Mitch was supposed to take care of you, like Duncan is doing, but instead he molested you?"  
  
"Don't say that," Richie mumbled. Just because he had come to accept his past, didn't mean he liked hearing words like 'rape' and 'molest'.  
  
"Okay, he took advantage of you because he was in a position of authority. And even though you know Duncan wouldn't ever do that, you still have that little voice in the back of your head warning you."  
  
"Yeah, it's like that. Can you make it stop?"  
  
"I can help you try to make it stop, but I can't just give you a pill to make it go away. That voice is going to be there for a long time and you have to learn to ignore it."  
  
"How?"  
  
"We'll get to that. Right now I want to keep talking about you and Duncan. Why did you run away?"  
  
"Because he just kept punishing me and I was tired of it," Richie told her.  
  
"So when did you decide that you'd had enough?"  
  
"When he threatened to hit me."  
  
"But you told me that he left so he wouldn't hit you. Weren't you happy that he wanted to protect you?"  
  
"No," Richie answered. "I was scared."  
  
"Scared that he wouldn't come back?"  
  
"No, scared that he would. That was the first time he told me he loved me. I was scared what was going to happen when he came back, so I left."  
  
"Were they mad at you when you came back?"  
  
"No, they were relieved. They were really worried when I was gone."  
  
"But you wanted them to be mad at you, didn't you?"  
  
"Yeah. I wanted them to stop liking me so much. But it didn't matter what I did, even when I got in trouble they were still really nice to me."  
  
"Is that why you stayed?" Karen asked. Richie was practically a textbook case. "Because they were so nice. You wanted to make them happy?"  
  
"No, I gave up. It was pointless; I couldn't make them hate me. They wouldn't send me back like everyone else. Even when I told Mac I did something really bad, they stuck by me. I knew it was going to happen no matter what I did. So I gave up."  
  
"You just gave up, accepted what you thought was going to happen? You didn't fight anymore?"  
  
"No."  
  
"Do you think that means you love them, too?"  
  
Richie thought about it. "I don't know. What do you think?" He seemed genuinely confused by the suggestion.  
  
"I think that's for you to decide. How would you describe Duncan and Tessa?"  
  
"They're really nice and they like to help. Mac's a little strict sometimes, but Tessa hates to punish me. She always sneaks me something or lets me do stuff I'm not supposed to when Mac's gone. One time she just ungrounded me and took me to dinner. Mac tries really hard though. I think he just doesn't know how to be a dad. He can't decide if he's supposed to be mean or really nice so he kinda goes back and forth."  
  
"What type of stuff do you do together?"  
  
"All sorts of stuff. Tessa helps me with my homework and tires to get me into art and junk; she loves to go shopping for me. It's like I tell her I need a toothbrush and I get a whole new wardrobe. Mac's just into the whole bonding thing right now. He always tries to take me with him when he has to go somewhere. I think he's hurt 'cause I like Tessa more."  
  
"You like Tessa more?" Karen asked. "How come?"  
  
"I don't know. We're just more alike. She understands me more. Sometimes I think Mac doesn't know what it's like being a kid. It's a lot harder than when he was young. He expects me to act the same way his father expected him to act. But I'm not like Mac, at all. I try to make him happy, I just keep messing up."  
  
"And how is Tessa different?"  
  
Richie shifted on the couch. "She listens more. She always asks me these dumb questions, just to see what I'll say. She can keep all my friends straight. Mac has real trouble with that. She's like. it like she's."  
  
"Take your time, think it out first."  
  
"It's like she's more interested in what I do now, and he's more worried about what will and won't be able to do later. I'm not looking far into the future. I just want to pass the tenth grade."  
  
"What else?" Karen asked, she could tell Richie was on a roll and didn't want to stop him.  
  
"Sometimes Mac hovers too much. He's always scared I'm going to get myself killed or something. He's always telling me to be careful, not to attract too much attention, stay out of stuff that isn't my business. it's like he knows something he isn't tell me. And I want to know what it is. You know, he never told me why he let me move in with them and work for them. He just offered it to me. Of course, I took it. Who else would give me a chance? But he's always so secretive about everything. Some stuff I understand, because you can't go around letting the whole world know all your business, but sometimes I just wish he'd tell me. I told him all my secrets," Richie rambled haphazardly. It didn't matter what he told her, she couldn't tell anyone. "He knows everything about me. Stuff I was never going to tell anyone. Granted I never told him about. you know. but once I did I actually kinda felt better. And I really wasn't going to tell anyone about the records thing. but I told him."  
  
"Records thing?"  
  
Richie realized his slip. "My record. you know arrests and stuff," he quickly lied.  
  
"Oh, that record. So you're honest with him, but he's not honest with you?"  
  
"He tells me some stuff, just not everything. But, I mean, my big secrets are all kid stuff. to me a secret is who I have a crush on. his stuff's bigger than that."  
  
"Adult secrets?" Karen asked.  
  
"Yeah, really adult."  
  
"I see." Karen made a few notes.  
  
. . . . . .  
  
After two more visits with Karen Richie seemed fine. He decided he didn't need to go anymore but was assured the option was always there. Three months after the lessons started Duncan proclaimed Richie ready for his driver's test.  
  
Richie insisted Tessa take him because Duncan would just make him nervous. So Duncan waited to either congratulate Richie or assure him that he can take the test again next week. After all not everyone passes on the first try. Three hours after they left Richie came bounding up the stairs.  
  
"So, how'd you do?" Duncan asked laughing.  
  
With a wide grin Richie held up his temporary license. "Can I borrow the car this weekend?"  
  
"We'll see," Duncan told him. "School starts again next week. It would be nice if you could survive your sophomore year. Only one semester to go until summer vacation."  
  
"Never a straight answer," Richie grumbled.  
  
"So has he told you his news?" Tessa asked entering the loft after Richie left her in his dust.  
  
"What news?" Duncan asked. "You didn't tell me you had any news!" he scolded Richie with a grin.  
  
"Shut up, Mac. I gotta call Aaron." Richie grabbed the cordless phone and ran into his room.  
  
"I think he's excited," Duncan commented. "How did he do?"  
  
"He was wonderful, the instructor didn't have a single complaint," Tessa told him. "You should have seen him. He was so nervous the whole way there he kept repeating rules to himself and telling me he couldn't do it. it was adorable. He was crushed when he got his midterm grades. Maybe he'll have a little more confidence in himself now." Richie had spent weeks studying for midterms, but just barely passed some of his classes. It had been a major blow to the boy's ego.  
  
Richie came out of his room still grinning. "Aaron is so jealous, he's dad won't let him get his license until he's eighteen."  
  
"You're not beating him by much you know," Duncan pointed out.  
  
"So where do you want to go to celebrate?" Tessa asked.  
  
"Spaghetti's?"  
  
"Sure."  
  
Richie grinned his 'I have a brilliant idea' grin. "Can I meet you guys there?"  
  
"Yes," Tessa said as Duncan said, "No."  
  
"Aw, come on, Mac! I'm a good driver you said so yourself."  
  
"Fine, you can take my car. But there are some rules."  
  
Richie sighed. "There're always rules with you."  
  
Duncan held the keys up in front of Richie. "Always wear your seatbelt, don't mess with the radio unless you are completely stopped, if you get a ticket you're paying for it and you can't drive for a month-no exceptions, you damage my car or Tessa's it's coming out of your pocket, nobody else drives the cars but you, you can only have two other people in the car with you, you have to keep your grades up, curfew still stands.in bed by ten thirty school nights, eleven thirty weekends, not sneaking in the door, in bed, you break any of the rules, no car until we say otherwise, got it?"  
  
Richie nodded. "Got it."  
  
"Repeat it."  
  
Richie sighed. "I screw up the cars or get a ticket, it's my money and no car for a month, two passengers only, no one else can drive, home and in bed my curfew, keep up my grades. I think that's all."  
  
"Radio?"  
  
"Only when I'm stopped."  
  
"And if you break the rules?"  
  
"No car."  
  
"Until?"  
  
"You say I can."  
  
"Very good," Duncan looked at Tessa. "Anything to add?"  
  
"Be careful," she said.  
  
"And be careful," Richie repeated. "Can I go now?"  
  
"You're hungry now?" Tessa asked.  
  
"Well, I was hoping I go show Aaron," Richie admitted. "Can I?"  
  
"I don't see why not."  
  
"Just meet us at the restaurant in an hour," Duncan told him handing over his keys.  
  
"Okay." Richie grabbed the keys and bolted for the door.  
  
"Call us when you get to Aaron's house!" he called after him.  
  
"You're never going to see your car again," Tessa warned Duncan as they heard Richie turn up the radio before pulling away.  
  
. . . . . .  
  
Richie showed up exactly on time to meet Duncan and Tessa.  
  
"So, you're first time driving alone, how was it?" Tessa asked.  
  
"Kinda weird," he admitted. "I had to yell at myself."  
  
"You did something to get yelled at for?" Duncan asked.  
  
"It was joke, Mac. Geeze, chill."  
  
Duncan gave him a mockingly suspicious look. "If you say so," he said with a grin.  
  
They made small talk until the food arrived. "Are you ready for school to start again?" Duncan asked as Richie cut into his ravioli.  
  
"Kinda," he shrugged. "I mean I don't miss the classes and all the work, but it'll nice to see Natalie again. Her family went to Mexico for Christmas vacation."  
  
"You like Natalie, don't you?" Tessa asked.  
  
Richie grinned and blushed. "No."  
  
"You're a horrible liar, Rich," Duncan told him. "You like her and you know it."  
  
"But she has a crush on somebody else. So it doesn't matter."  
  
"Who?" Tessa asked.  
  
"She won't tell us, she's afraid we'll tell him during gym or something, I guess."  
  
"Sounds to me like she has a crush on you."  
  
"Me?"  
  
"Why else wouldn't she tell you?"  
  
"'Cause she doesn't trust me," Richie laughed. "Can I ask you guys a question?"  
  
"Sure, Rich, what is it?" Duncan asked putting down his fork.  
  
"Well Aaron started asking me all these questions and now I have some."  
  
"What did he ask?"  
  
"What kinda car I'm gonna get." Richie seemed embarrassed by where the conversation was going to go.  
  
"That's up to you," Duncan told him. "Tessa and I've talked about it and have a deal for you."  
  
"You guys aren't gonna. I mean, you don't have to. I'm not asking you to."  
  
"The deal is," Tessa interrupted. "You can get whatever you want within reason."  
  
"You guys are gonna."  
  
"Match you dollar to dollar on the price of the car," she finished for him. "You have to pay for half."  
  
"And all the insurance," Duncan added. "And even though you're paying for half, you can still get grounded from it."  
  
"I can get whatever I want?" Richie asked.  
  
"Within reason, so no Hummers or Ferraris."  
  
"What about Yamahas?" Richie ventured. "Is that within reason?"  
  
"You want a motorcycle?" Tessa asked.  
  
"Uh-huh."  
  
"A motorcycle," Duncan mulled over the idea.  
  
"If you don't approve, I'll pay for the whole thing myself. I just really want one."  
  
"You're sure? Cause once you buy it, you're not returning it."  
  
"Yeah."  
  
"Are you sure?" Duncan asked one last time.  
  
"Uh-huh."  
  
"Okay, then. If it's what you want, then you can get it. But you have to wear your helmet and a jacket. I don't care if it's 300 degrees outside. You have to wear them. And you have to pass the tests before you make any offers," Duncan told him. He and Tessa had already discussed that Richie might want a bike instead of a car.  
  
"Really?" Richie asked excitedly.  
  
"And when you get it depends on your grades this semester. You have to do some research and make sure what you get is what you want and it'll work for you. You're going to have to wait until you get all the money for the down payment so it probably won't get it until the end of the summer."  
  
"Okay," he quickly agreed. 


	13. ch 13

As a little bonus, Tessa gave Richie her car for the day so he could drive to his first day back at school. After thinking about what Tessa had said about Natalie liking him and that's why she wouldn't tell him who she had her crush on, Richie decided to bite the bullet and ask Natalie out for that Friday night. He had told Tessa of his plans and she was excited for him all day. She just knew Natalie would say yes. That's why when Richie sulked into the loft that afternoon and immediately went to his homework, she was confused.  
  
"What's wrong?" she asked.  
  
"Nothing," he sighed not looking up from his book.  
  
"Homework already?"  
  
"Yup."  
  
"Don't you want to take a little break first? Maybe have a snack?"  
  
"No, thanks."  
  
"You look like you could use some ice cream," she tempted him.  
  
"No, thanks."  
  
"Oh, what are you on a diet now?" she teased.  
  
"Yup," he answered.  
  
Tessa stopped mid breath. "But why? You're not fat."  
  
"I know; that's the problem."  
  
"You want to be fat." Tessa tried to figure it all out.  
  
"No, I need to bulk up, get some muscle. Ice cream would just slow me down."  
  
"Why the sudden change? What's wrong with the way you look?"  
  
"I'm too old to be this skinny, I look scrawny," he explained. "Nobody my age is this scrawny."  
  
"You're not scrawny."  
  
"Look at this!" He held up his arm and let his wrist hang limply. "This is scrawny. I got, like, no muscle."  
  
"Some boys aren't meant to be body builders, Richie." Tessa was confused, Richie had many insecurities but his looks were usually not one of them. "You're perfect the way you are."  
  
"Then how come Natalie doesn't want to go out with me?" he asked.  
  
"This is what brought on the change? A girl?"  
  
"Not just any girl, Tess. The girl. I swear she's the one."  
  
Tessa tried not to laugh. "Richie, you're seventeen. I don't doubt that you like her a lot, but the chances of her being your one true love is very slim."  
  
"Even so, if she doesn't like me. why would any other girl?"  
  
"Because you happen to be very cute."  
  
"That's another problem."  
  
"It's not good to be cute?" Tessa didn't remember high school like this at all.  
  
"No, girls don't like cute; they like handsome, rugged, manly. I'm not handsome, rugged or manly. I'm cute," he finished in disgust.  
  
"Who's the boy she abandoned you for?" Tessa asked knowingly.  
  
"Brad Gordon," Richie answered.  
  
"And this Brad is a handsome, rugged, and manly seventeen year old?"  
  
Richie made a face. "Yeah. He's like super smart, and all the guys think he's sooo funny and all the girls think he's sooo cute and everyone thinks he's sooo perfect. And the worst part is; he is! He's like this genius who looks like he's straight from the pages of a surfer magazine. He's really tan. it's January, where did he get a tan in January? And he has this perfect blonde hair, and these perfect white teeth, and he's perfect at everything, and he shouldn't be allowed in high school. None of us other guys stand a chance with him around!"  
  
"So you want to be more like Brad Gordon?"  
  
"What other choice do I got?"  
  
"You can be Richie Ryan. There's nothing wrong with the way you look."  
  
"Then it must be my personality or maybe I'm not smart enough." Richie began thinking of anything that could be repelling his potential dates.  
  
"Richie, there's nothing wrong with you."  
  
"Then how come all the girls are fawning over Brad and no one even looks at me?"  
  
"Somebody is looking at you," Tessa assured him. "Maybe you're not looking at her."  
  
"Look, what you're trying to do is nice and all, but nobody's looking at me, Tessa. Everybody is looking at Brad Gordon." Richie sighed and rested his head on his fist. "I just wanna be alone."  
  
"Alright." Tessa left Richie to his fretting.  
  
"What's wrong?" Duncan asked when Tessa entered the office.  
  
"She said no, and now he's convinced there's something wrong with him. Because he's not like Brad Gordon."  
  
"Who's that?"  
  
"The most perfect boy in the world that Richie will never be able to compete with, apparently."  
  
"The boy Natalie likes?"  
  
"Exactly."  
  
"So now he's upstairs tearing himself down because of a girl," Duncan muttered. "We'll just have to point out his strong suites and be careful what we say around him for a while."  
  
That night Tessa recruited Richie to help her with dinner. Everything would have gotten done a lot faster if she had done it herself, but it gave her a chance to open him up to the idea new untapped talents.  
  
"I'm telling you, you're a natural," she told him proudly and she placed the bubbling casserole on the table. "Are you sure you've never cooked before?"  
  
"I've made, like, frozen pizzas and macaroni and cheese," he said. "But I've never made anything that you've had to add more than milk and water to."  
  
"What smells so good?" Duncan asked as he entered the kitchen. Tessa had told him her plan and he was more than happy to play along.  
  
"Mexican casserole," Tessa told him. "Richie helped me make it."  
  
Duncan looked from Richie to the table and back. "What did he not make?"  
  
"He helped with everything."  
  
"Then I think I might just go for a drive." Duncan turned to leave the kitchen.  
  
"No fair," Richie told him grabbing his arm. "If I have to eat what I ruined, you do too."  
  
"I was just teasing, Rich. I'm sure it's great."  
  
"It's getting cold," Tessa warned sitting down and scooping some onto everyone's plate.  
  
Duncan sat down and immediately took a bite. "Rich, you made this?"  
  
"I helped."  
  
"You two work well together, this is great!"  
  
Richie looked skeptical. "Really?" He picked up his fork and ate a little. "That's really not that bad," he smiled. "As far as casseroles go."  
  
"Maybe you should help me more often," Tessa suggested. "If you're up for it."  
  
"Yeah, sure."  
  
. . . . . .  
  
Richie helped Tessa nearly every night for the rest of the year. His confidence was still a little shaky when it came to girls, but he did end up with a date for the end of the year school dance. He finished his sophomore year with nearly all Bs and only two Cs and didn't put up much of a fuss when it came to enrolling for the next year. All summer he worked at the store and did extra chores and errands for money. He began following Duncan's work out routine and diet. By the end of the summer he had developed a nice tan and built up just enough muscle to where they had to get him a new school uniform. His new body gave him a bit of a confidence boost but what really seemed to help him was when he discovered he had more than enough money in his bank account to get his motorcycle.  
  
"I got it!" he exclaimed happily waving his bank statement in the air. "I can get it!"  
  
"What are you yelling about?" Duncan asked, looking up from the stack of bills that had arrived in the mail that day as well.  
  
"Look!" Richie thrust the paper under his nose. "I can get my bike!"  
  
"Are you sure?" Tessa asked.  
  
"He's got more than enough," Duncan agreed. "We made a deal, as long as you know what you want. and you did the research, we'll go bike shopping this weekend."  
  
"Can't we go now?" Richie begged.  
  
"Richie, you can wait two days for your bike," Duncan told him. "I want to make sure you have all you bases covered."  
  
"I do, Dad, I swear."  
  
Duncan smiled. Richie's friends from school had been hanging around so much over the summer that Mom and Dad had become a regular addition to Richie's vocabulary. While he still mostly called them Tessa and Mac, Mom or Dad were used even when it was just the three of them out of habit.  
  
"We'll just see about that."  
  
"Mac," he whined.  
  
That night Duncan and Tessa were going over Richie's research in the kitchen after he had gone to bed.  
  
"He sure got his money fast," Duncan commented. Tessa just smiled and went back to looking at the motorcycle magazines. Duncan picked up the bank statement. "How many of these deposits are yours?" he asked.  
  
"I may have given him a couple hundred dollars extra," Tessa admitted.  
  
"Totaling to?"  
  
"Around a thousand. or two."  
  
"So your extra two thousand combined with my extra fifteen hundred is what put him over the top. I thought he had to earn half the money."  
  
"My extra is for helping with dinner," Tessa decided. "He does good work."  
  
"And my extra is for. something." Duncan laughed. "We are spoiling him."  
  
"But he doesn't know. He thinks he got it all on his own," she pointed out.  
  
That weekend Duncan took Richie out to get his bike and the boy ended up riding it all over town for the next three days. Finally the first day of school rolled around and Richie couldn't have been more excited. He couldn't wait to pull into the parking lot on his new bike.  
  
"Let's just see Natalie say no to you now," Tessa encouraged. "She probably won't even recognize you." Natalie had been traveling with her family all summer and the two hadn't seen each other since exams.  
  
"I don't like her anymore. I mean I like her, but don't like her like her. We're just friends," Richie told her at breakfast.  
  
"Oh, so you do you have your sights set on now?"  
  
"Nobody yet. But Aaron told me every year there's a whole mess of transfer students. so who knows."  
  
"Just remember you have to keep your grades up," Duncan warned. "I don't want to have to drive you to school because you've lost your bike."  
  
"I know. That shouldn't be a problem this year. Aaron's brother's friend says I got a lot easy teachers this year. And, added bonus, my math teacher's a newbie. The new teachers are always easy."  
  
"That's good. The easier the teacher the higher the grades," Duncan smiled.  
  
"You always know how to ruin a good thing don't you?" Richie mumbled finishing off his juice. "Well, I gotta go, a bunch of us are going to help the freshman find their classes." He jumped up from the table, grabbed his bag, jacket, and helmet, and ran down the stairs.  
  
"That's nice, he's going to help the freshman," Duncan smiled.  
  
"He's going to tell them that they have to take the elevator to the fourth floor," Tessa laughed shaking her head.  
  
"St. Matt's doesn't have a fourth floor or an elevator."  
  
"Exactly."  
  
. . . . . .  
  
Richie roared around the corner and into the school parking lot where Aaron and Natalie were waiting for him.  
  
"Mac, that thing gets sweeter every time I see it," Aaron said as Richie dismounted.  
  
"Joel?" Natalie asked in disbelief looking him up and down. "What happened to you?"  
  
"What?" he asked.  
  
"You look great," she told him.  
  
"Oh? Just nature taking its course I guess."  
  
"Dude," Aaron whispered as they began walking into the school. "Brad Gordon is going to have some serious competition this year."  
  
Richie smirked at Geoff Conway as they passed in the hall. "I so dare him to try and mess with me," he boasted. "I'd kill him."  
  
"You talking about me, MacLeod?" Geoff asked.  
  
Richie turned to face him. "Quite possibly, is that going to be a problem?" he asked.  
  
Geoff grabbed the helmet out of Richie's hand. "So that's your lame-o bike out there."  
  
"That happens to be a top of the line Yamaha street bike."  
  
"Mommy and Daddy get it for your birthday?"  
  
"I got it myself," Richie told him. "And for the record, my birthday's not for another three weeks." Richie took his helmet back.  
  
"Do we have a problem here, boys?" Farther Parker asked approaching them.  
  
"No, sir," Geoff answered.  
  
"Of course not," Richie added. "Geoff was just telling me how jealous he is of my new wheels; that's all."  
  
"I don't want any shenanigans from you two this year, do you understand me?"  
  
"Yes, sir. No shenanigans from us, sir," Richie smiled.  
  
"Mind the attitude, Mr. MacLeod," Farther Parker warned walking away.  
  
Richie, Aaron, and Natalie starting laughing as soon as he turned the corner.  
  
"Mind the attitude, Mr. MacLeod," Aaron imitated.  
  
"I don't want any shenanigans from you two this year," Natalie added.  
  
"What the hell is a shenanigan?" Richie asked. "I've never heard that before."  
  
"Watch your back, MacLeod," Geoff sneered as he turned to leave.  
  
"I'll take you for a ride sometime!" Richie called after him. "What is his deal?" Richie asked. "What does he have against me?"  
  
"Maybe he has a shenanigan up his butt," Natalie chortled making them all laugh again. The warning bell rang and Richie quickly went to his locker to stow his riding jacket and helmet before running across the school to homeroom. He and Aaron slid into the last empty desks just before the tardy bell rang.  
  
"Welcome back," Sister Patricia greeted. "I'm going to start off by getting you all arranged properly. So everybody up!" The class mumbled and gathered their stuff as they were arranged in proper alphabetical order. Because of the way the junior class was divided into homerooms A-G, H-L, M-Tr, Ts-Z, Richie and Aaron had the same room assignment, but Richie was first chair and Aaron was back left corner. Once Sister Patricia had finished that she began handing everyone a new schedule. "Due to faculty changes everyone's schedule merited rearranging, so what you were given after registration is to be disregarded."  
  
Richie twisted in his chair to look at Aaron; they had chosen their schedules based on getting the easiest teacher possible. Richie didn't recognize any of the names on the paper in his hands. "This sucks," he mouthed.  
  
"Pass it over," Aaron mouthed back. Richie's schedule made it half way across the room before Sister Patricia got a hold of it. She plucked it out of Mary Peters' hand and continued her task. On her way back to the front of the room she passed Richie and put the schedule on his desk.  
  
"There will be plenty of time to compare classes at lunch, I'm sure," she told him. "Now I run a tight ship. There will be no note passing, no talking, no gum chewing, no last minute breakfasts. I expect you all to be in your seats when the bell rings. That is when I take attendance. If you should be late for any reason other than pure idiocy I want a signed, hand written note from your parents. And just so you don't carry an all purpose forgery, I will call your parents to check the validity of the excuse." Richie shot a look over his shoulder at Aaron who sat up straight and saluted the nun's turned back as she began writing the daily schedule on the blackboard. Richie stifled a laughe and turned back around. "Every morning we will begin with attendance followed by the morning's prayer. Yes, Mr. MacLeod."  
  
"I can't pray," he told her. "I'm not Catholic. So does that mean I have to be here for that?"  
  
"You must be present and silent," she told him. "After that we will have announcements and any remaining time will be used for a study period. During that time you will be allowed to turn into me any excuses for absences for the previous day in any class. If you have something to say or a question to ask, raise your hand, wait to be called on and when I do, stand up before speaking. Are there any questions?"  
  
Richie stood up. "Were you ever in the army?" he asked. A few kids giggled.  
  
"No, Mr. MacLeod, sit down. And raise your hand and wait to be called on." Richie raised his hand. "Yes, Mr. MacLeod?"  
  
He stood up again. "Any armed services at all? 'Cause my dad was and you're just as strict as he is." A few more kids giggled.  
  
"Never. Now sit down," she told him. "What is it, Mr. MacLeod?"  
  
Richie put his hand down and grinned as he stood back up. "I think you'd make a great general, ma'am."  
  
"Thank you, now be quiet."  
  
"I just have one more question."  
  
"What?"  
  
Richie turned around. "Aaron, what's your new schedule?" 


	14. ch 14

"Okay, hand it over," Aaron demanded as he sat down to lunch with Natalie and Richie. Due to the need to run all the way across the school Richie and Aaron had not had a chance to exchange schedules after Sister Patricia threatened to paddle Richie in front of the class as the bell rang. Richie pulled out his new schedule as did Natalie and they all leaned over the table with their heads bowed in the center to see if they had any classes together.  
  
"Oh! English!" Natalie exclaimed. "All three of us share sixth period."  
  
"Wonder who made that mistake?" Richie snickered.  
  
"Who's the teach? M. Colazano?" Aaron retook his seat and pondered the mystery.  
  
"You okay, Joel?" Natalie asked. "You look pale."  
  
"It's nothing," Richie told her. "Head rush." Richie swallowed hard and concentrated on his steak fingers. He had once known a M. Colazano. as a matter of fact he had known him quite intimately. 'There's no way it's him,' Richie told himself. 'What would he be doing teaching at a private Catholic school? And even if it is him, you're nearly eighteen and Joel MacLeod; not nine and Richie Ryan; he won't recognize you.'  
  
"Don't you think, Mac? Mac?" Aaron waved his hand in front of Richie's face. "Earth to Mac, come in, Mac."  
  
"Huh!" Richie grunted in surprise. "Sorry, what?"  
  
"The sarge was way out of line threatening you like that."  
  
"Who?"  
  
"Sister Patricia, you know the whole paddling thing?"  
  
"Can she still do that?" Natalie asked.  
  
"Apparently she can," Aaron shrugged. "Cause she was ready to let Mac have it, but the bell rang and she lost jurisdiction."  
  
Natalie grinned. "I would so pay to see that little thing try to chase Joel down. She better have the angels on her side 'cause otherwise it's not happening."  
  
"Ah, I might let her get a shot in, you know, to let her feel good about herself," Richie allowed trying to soften the uneatable steak finger in the goopy gravy. "Did they get a new cook or something? This stuff is worse than hospital food." He pushed the tray away and decided to wait until he got home to eat.  
  
By fifth period Richie was regretting his decision to forgo lunch and clutched his stomach with one hand as he filled out his twelve millionth 'Getting to know you' survey that day. Luckily Duncan had coached him on exactly what to put when it came to the important stuff.  
  
'Full Name: Joel Richard MacLeod  
  
Parents: Duncan and Tessa MacLeod  
  
Address: 23 Westbrook Av.  
  
Telephone Number: 867-5309  
  
Age: 17  
  
Birthday: September 20, 1975  
  
Place of Birth: Paris, France  
  
Previous schools attended: Princeton Boy's School of London  
  
Hobbies: Cars and Motorcycles  
  
Job (if applicable): MacLeod Antiques  
  
Hours you work: Whenever my parents let me (they own it)  
  
Do you like to read?: No  
  
Do you consider yourself a good student?: Depends on your definition of good  
  
Do you drive?: Yes  
  
Do you have your own vehicle?: Yes  
  
If so what is it?: the only motorcycle in the parking lot  
  
What other classes are you taking?: the ones I was given because they changed my schedule and I got no say  
  
Are you looking forward to another year at St. Matthew's Academy?: Not particularly. but I don't have a choice now do I?  
  
How are your math skills now?: cruddy  
  
What do you hope to learn in this math class?: Pre-Calc stuff?'  
  
Richie put his pencil down and sighed deeply. The first day was almost over all he had to do was sit through this class, English, and Study Hall and he could go home and eat. That wouldn't be so bad. After going through the tedious task of getting books assigned, Mr. Johnson gave them the rest of the period to goof off as long as they didn't get to loud. Richie chatted with the kids sitting around him about their summers until the bell rang. On his way out the door Mr. Johnson stopped him.  
  
"You're Joel, right?"  
  
"Uh-huh. I mean, yes."  
  
He smiled. "I've heard rumor that you're quite the little wise guy."  
  
"Quite possibly," Richie answered with a slight nod. He could tell that he had landed in the right class; Mr. Johnson was going to be a cool teacher.  
  
"Well, I'm warning you. I was too and look where I ended up. Change you hooligan ways before you end up in school for the rest of your life."  
  
This time Richie smiled. "I'll keep that in mind."  
  
"Oh, and just so you know," Mr. Johnson added as Richie began to leave. "I fully intend to teach you 'Pre-Calc stuff' this year, so don't worry your wise ass little head about that."  
  
"You do realize you just cussed in school, right?" Richie pointed out.  
  
"Our little secret."  
  
"Until you give me a bad grade, then I might have to report you to the headmaster for disrupting my learning environment."  
  
"Mr. MacLeod, are you black mailing me?" the teacher laughed.  
  
"No," Richie told him with an exaggerated innocent grin. "I'm just giving you a heads--" The bell rang. "Aw, man! Late on the first day!" He turned and prepared to run past the hall monitors.  
  
"Ah!" Mr. Johnson stopped him. "Here." He scribbled on a piece of paper. "You were helping me with the books, now get to class."  
  
Richie looked down at the hall pass in his hands and grinned. "Thanks."  
  
"Well, it is partly my fault. See you tomorrow."  
  
"Bye, Mr. Johnson!" Richie sauntered down the halls to his next class, lazily waving his pass in Farther Parker's face as the priest approached him about being in the hall while class was in session.  
  
"On your way then, Mr. MacLeod."  
  
"Of course, Farther. Nice weather we're having isn't it?" Richie continued his non-too-hurried walk to his next class. 'Full Name: Joel Richard MacLeod.' he recited the questionnaire to himself. By the time he opened the door he was at 'Do you have a vehicle?' Casting a lazy grin at the class, Richie didn't even look at the teacher as he put the pass their desk on his way to the one Aaron and Natalie had saved for him.  
  
"Nice of you to join us, Mr. MacLeod," the teacher remarked dryly.  
  
"Anytime," Richie assured him as he began to fill out the paper on his desk.  
  
"A little cocky for the first day aren't we?"  
  
"I'm sorry, sir," Richie looked up and spoke to the teacher as they wrote their name on the blackboard. "I hadn't realized that being late for helping another teacher was considered cocky. It won't happen again."  
  
"You'll do well to mind your manners, young man."  
  
"My apologies again." Richie had made it his duty in every class to test out the teachers and see who would and wouldn't allow a little fun. This guy was obviously not up for fun. After today, Richie would do his best to behave in class.  
  
"Well," the teacher started turning around. "My name is Mitch Colazano. You can call me Mr. Colazano." Richie took a sharp breath and sunk down in his chair trying to become invisible.  
  
"Are you okay, Joel?" Natalie asked. "You're pale again."  
  
"I, uh. don't um. I think it was the steak," he whispered back. "Don't worry about it."  
  
"As I was saying," Mitch interrupted them. "If you two," he got a good look at Richie. "If you two don't mind me interrupting your flirting." Richie could tell he was trying to place his face. "This year we will cover Shakespeare's Romeo and Juliet, To Kill a Mockingbird, Huckleberry Finn, and Author Miller's play The Crucible. You will each be responsible for getting your own copies of each book that you can write in. I will give you ample warning before you need each book. So by next Monday I want you all to have Romeo and Juliet ready to go. I have a class schedule that I will be sticking to, so you will have your assignments handed out to you on a monthly basis. They will also be on that bulletin board weekly. So there is no excuse to not get your work done. Now, Mr. Tardy Pants," he looked at Richie. "Why don't you hand out these for me?" He held up a stack of papers. Slowly Richie stood and went to the front of the room. "What's your name?"  
  
"Joel MacLeod," Richie answered hoarsely.  
  
"Are you always this moody?"  
  
"No, sir," Richie shook his head and kept his eyes down. Mitch always talked about how much he liked his eyes.  
  
"Are you feeling alright?" Mitch reached out and put his hand on Richie's shoulder. "You don't look so good."  
  
"I think I just ate something bad," Richie mumbled taking the papers and going to the far side of the class to hand them out. He couldn't understand anything that was being said as he felt Mitch's eyes flicker toward him every few seconds.  
  
"These, too." Mitch handed Richie another stack of papers when he tried to go back to his seat. Richie took them with the sinking realization that even if Mitch couldn't place him, he still liked him. Richie quickly finished and shoved the papers back into Mitch's hands as he squeezed past him to get to his desk. "I'll make up a seating chart tonight, be prepared to hate your seat tomorrow!" Mitch yelled as the class began to file out of the room after the bell rang. "You," he smiled at Richie. "I have a feeling I'm going to need you within swatting range."  
  
Richie gulped and went straight to the office before heading home.  
  
. . . . . .  
  
"Hey, how'd it go?" Duncan asked as Richie came into view in the office door.  
  
"Can you sign this?" Richie shoved a very official looking paper across the desk.  
  
"What is it?"  
  
"A thing saying it's okay with you for me to change classes."  
  
"I thought you liked you schedule?"  
  
"They changed them and I got stuck with a cruddy English teacher. The rest of my classes are fine, it's just English I need to change."  
  
"Won't changing one class disrupt your whole schedule?"  
  
"No," Richie told him. "See the teacher I want has a sixth period class too. And I already asked her if she had room for me, which she does. So I just need you and Mom to sign that."  
  
"I'll talk to Tessa," Duncan told him. "And we'll discuss it at dinner."  
  
That night at dinner Richie barely picked at his food. He had been starving when he showed up for English; by the time he left he didn't think he'd eat for a week.  
  
"I thought you liked Barbecue chicken," Tessa said in slight concern as he stabbed a piece with his fork then let it plop down onto his plate for the third time.  
  
"I do, just. big snack," he lied.  
  
"Tessa and I have been talking," Duncan started in is new fatherly tone that he had perfected over the summer. "And as long as you have a good, valid reason, you can change classes."  
  
"So why do you want to change?" Tessa asked.  
  
"I, uh. um, you see it's. it's because." Richie stammered as his mind raced for a reason. "It's cause I'm dyslexic," he admitted.  
  
"What?"  
  
"Ms. Walters was a student teacher last year in my English class. She says I'm dyslexic and that's why I have trouble reading and understanding stuff." It was all true, Richie wasn't lying. For some reason he just couldn't bring himself to give the real reason. He guessed it was because he just wanted to move on with his life and not have to face everything that happened to him for a third time. "And she helped me a lot last year. In the mornings and during class. Junior year is lots of reading and I just want a teacher who I know can help me understand."  
  
"Sounds like a good reason to me. You can change classes. We'll sign it after dinner," Duncan decided. "But I think we have something more important to talk about now. Why didn't you tell us?"  
  
Richie looked at this plate. "Tell you what?"  
  
"That you have a learning disability."  
  
"Don't call it that," Richie insisted. "It makes me sound like some kind of retard or something."  
  
"Richie, you're not retarded, you just learn differently," Tessa told him.  
  
"That explains why you had so much trouble in your classes. If you had told us we wouldn't have been so hard on you about your grades. We could have helped you."  
  
"Mac, you guys always got so mad at me. I wasn't going to bring that up too."  
  
"You should have," Duncan told him. "You don't need to keep secrets from us. Finding out your little quirks isn't going to change how we feel about you."  
  
"My quirks? Yeah, some quirks. I'm so quirky I had to go to a shrink."  
  
"Richie." Tessa reached across the table and put her hand on his arm. "There is no shame in needing to talk to Karen every now and then. It's perfectly normal. You shouldn't feel bad about it. And you shouldn't feel bad about your dyslexia, either. It's very easy to work with. I did."  
  
Richie looked up. "You're snowing me, right? You're dyslexic?"  
  
"You are?" Duncan added.  
  
"Yes, although I found out at much younger age than seventeen. I can teach you what my tutor taught me. I'm a very good reader now. There are all sorts of tricks. Like take your notes in a fine tip marker. The colors will catch your eyes and help you to concentrate. Read out loud when you can. Like when your doing your homework, your brain will start memorizing what words look like. And after a couple years it won't be so hard for you anymore."  
  
"Ms. Walters mentioned the color thing."  
  
"I know lots of tricks to help."  
  
. . . . . .  
  
The next morning Richie went to school early because he had to get both teachers to sign the form and then submit it to the office then wait for an official schedule change. Mitch's door was open so he just walked in a slapped the paper down on his desk.  
  
"Can you sign that?" he asked.  
  
"Why?" Mitch asked looking up.  
  
"Cause I wanna change classes."  
  
"Because I want to change classes," Mitch corrected.  
  
"Will you sign it, or not?" Richie was beginning to get irritable.  
  
"Not. You will remain in my class."  
  
"Why?" Richie demanded. "What do you care? One less paper to grade."  
  
"You're not leaving my class because I want you."  
  
"Because you want me in your class," Richie tried to clarify.  
  
"I mean what I said."  
  
"Fine. But I'm telling you, you better take it back," he warned. "Or you won't have any classes."  
  
"Are you going to report me?"  
  
"Yeah." Richie turned to leave happy to find his way out without having to tell anyone who he really was.  
  
"You're not going to do that, Richie."  
  
Richie stopped and turned back around. "Why not? And the names Joel, check the paper," he tried not to rise to the bait.  
  
"I think we both know it's not." Mitch got up. "Take a seat."  
  
"No, I'm going to the head-"  
  
"Take a seat," Mitch repeated. Richie sat. Mitch closed the door.  
  
"I don't think your name is Joel. I think it's Richie."  
  
"Well, you're wrong. I've been Joel my whole life."  
  
"I know you forged your school records." Mitch didn't falter from his mission. "But don't worry I won't tell anybody, Richie."  
  
Richie knew he wasn't fooling anyone with his act, so he gave in. "You won't?"  
  
"Of course, not. But since you're getting what you want, I think it's only fair I get what I want." Mitch stood behind Richie and began rubbing his shoulders. "I still love you, Richie."  
  
Richie pulled away. "Don't feed me that line. I know it's a load of crap."  
  
Mitch pulled Richie back towards him and put his arms around the boy's shoulders. "I love you and I want to make love to you. Just like we did all those years ago. And you're not going to tell anyone. Because if you tell my secret, I'll tell yours."  
  
"What makes you so sure I won't tell?" Richie asked.  
  
"Because I know you couldn't have done it yourself. My guess is the people posing as your parents did it for you. You don't want them to get into trouble, now do you?" Richie didn't say anything. If people started investigating Duncan then his secret would be in jeopardy. "So do we have a deal?"  
  
Richie wanted to cry as he heard his own voice seal his fate. "Deal." 


	15. ch 15

"So did your class change go through?" Tessa asked as Richie silently tore a salad that night for dinner.  
  
"I decided not to," Richie answered hoarsely.  
  
"Why not? You seemed pretty adamant last night."  
  
"What's that mean?" Richie knew what adamant meant, but wanted to distract Tessa long enough to come up with an excuse.  
  
"Insistent," she told him. "You weren't going to take no for an answer."  
  
"Oh. I talked to Mr. Colazano and decided to stay in his class, is all."  
  
"Alright," Tessa agreed. "It's your class. How was your day?"  
  
"Fine," Richie shrugged. "Do you mind if I go lay down until dinner? My head hurts."  
  
"Do you want some aspirin?"  
  
"No, I'll be fine." Richie retreated into his room.  
  
Richie skipped dinner and remained in his room all night. He did his homework, took a shower, and was in bed at nine thirty.  
  
"Are you feeling okay?" Duncan asked looking in on the boy. "You look ill."  
  
Seeing a temporary solution to his problem, Richie put on his best sick face. "My head hurts. And my stomach's kinda gurgley. I was feeling kinda bad yesterday, too."  
  
"You didn't each much diner last night," Duncan agreed putting his hand on the boy's forehead. "You don't feel warm, but then again you don't always need a fever to be sick. I'm going to make you some tea I want you to drink. It'll help your stomach and help you sleep. I'll be right back."  
  
Before Duncan returned Tessa was at Richie's side taking his temperature checking for any visible signs of illness, and generally fussing over him.  
  
"I knew something was wrong," she murmured stroking his cheek. "Why didn't you say something yesterday?"  
  
"Cause I figured it was nothing," Richie answered trying not to be too obvious he was faking.  
  
"Next time say something."  
  
Duncan came in with a mug of tea and waited for Richie to sit up before handing it to him. "It has peppermint and ginger in it. It doesn't taste amazing, but it works." Richie raised the mug to his lips and wrinkled his nose. "Don't smell it," Duncan advised. "And it's hot," he added when Richie made a strange noise as the nearly boiling liquid hit his lips.  
  
"Thanks for the warnings," Richie managed. "How is this stuff supposed to make me feel better? It's disgusting."  
  
"You'll thank me in the morning."  
  
"Remind me," he mumbled as he sipped at the tea.  
  
"Now, I don't want you toughing it out," Tessa instructed when Richie handed Duncan the empty mug and settled into his pillows. "If you still feel ill tomorrow, tell us. You won't have to go to school."  
  
"Great sick on the third day," Richie laughed a little and forced out one of his hacking coughs for extra umph.  
  
"Richie! That sounds horrible. When did you start coughing?" Tessa leaned over him to check for a fever again.  
  
"Just now."  
  
"If you get much worse we're calling the doctor. You're starting to feel a little warm."  
  
"He is?" Duncan put his hand on Richie's other cheek.  
  
"Mahbe itz all the han's on mah fac," Richie suggested as best he could with Tessa and Duncan's hands continually moving around his face to check his fever.  
  
"Sorry, tough guy," Duncan chuckled. "Don't let your hate of pampering prompt you to go to school sick, though."  
  
They waited for Richie to fall asleep before they left his room. When the door closed Richie silently counted to a hundred to make sure both had gone then opened his eyes and sat up. He was in big trouble. Mitch had kept him in the classroom until just before the first bell rang that morning and had seated him front and center directly in front of his own desk in sixth period. Richie did his best not to look as uncomfortable as he felt and when Natalie asked him about it he just said he hated sitting in the front of the class. He had gone home unable to shake the feeling of impending doom in his stomach. He hadn't eaten all day and had been running out of excuses. It felt a little bad lying about being sick, but he wouldn't milk it too much. He just needed one day to come to grips with what he had done to himself then he'd be fine. Richie couldn't sleep so all night whenever he thought to he forced out a few of his bronchitis worthy coughs.  
  
The next morning he got out of bed when his alarm went of and started to get ready for school, unsuccessfully smothering a large coughing fit that made his throat hurt. Tessa knocked on his door and opened it when he couldn't say 'come in' for all the coughing he was doing.  
  
"Richie, you sound horrible."  
  
"I'm fine," Richie answered his voice scratchy.  
  
"But you were coughing all night, and now this. this fit. You're not going anywhere," she decided. "Put on some warm pajamas and get back in bed. Are you hungry?"  
  
"No."  
  
"Then I'll make you some tea to make your throat feel better."  
  
"Is that, like, your solution to everything?" Richie asked as he took off his tie.  
  
"For now, until the doctor says otherwise." Tessa opened Richie's drawers until she found what she was looking for, the plaid flannel pajamas, and handed them to him. "Get in bed."  
  
"The doctor?" Richie took off his shirt.  
  
"Yes, the doctor."  
  
"It's just a cough."  
  
"That sounds like you're about to explode?"  
  
"It's just the way I cough."  
  
"Then let the doctor hear it. No arguments; now change and get in bed."  
  
Tessa called the school to tell them that Joel wasn't going to be there and then called the doctor to report that Richie was ill. Richie drank the tea without protest, honey lemon was much better than peppermint ginger, and actually drifted to sleep until the prodding and freezing hands of the doctor woke him.  
  
"Well, he doesn't feel like he has a fever," the doctor said. "And he's awake," she added when she noticed a pair of blues eyes regarding her carefully.  
  
"You're a girl," Richie told her.  
  
She smiled. "You're a boy."  
  
"I know, so why are you here?"  
  
"Richie," Duncan scolded. "She's just as good as any man."  
  
"That's not what I." he coughed a few times. "Not what I meant. I just meant, shouldn't you be taking care of girls?"  
  
"I am perfectly capable of taking care of boys. Aside form a few obvious differences they're just like girls."  
  
"But you're in my room." Richie was clearly uncomfortable with the idea.  
  
"Do you want to go in the living room?" she offered.  
  
"I'm in my pajamas!" Richie protested holding the covers tightly around himself.  
  
"I'll tell you what. I just need to do two more things and then I'm done. Can you handle that?"  
  
"Of course he can," Tessa interrupted. "Can't you?"  
  
"Yeah," Richie answered quietly.  
  
"Okay, sit up and take off you're shirt. I'm going to listen to your breathing." Richie did as he as told and the doctor pulled out a stethoscope from her bag. Richie jumped when the cold instrument touched his chest. "We do that on purpose," she smiled at him. "Take a deep breath." She had Richie breathe deeply for a minute as she listened for any signs of abnormalities. "Okay, that sounds fine. Now I know this looks big, strange, and possibly painful, but it's just a thermometer." Richie looked at the large computer like device in her hand. She leaned towards him and he leaned away.  
  
"Where do you put it?"  
  
"You're ear, like this." She put the rubber tip in his ear and left it there a few seconds the pulled it back out. "See? That's it. And you don't have a fever." She turned to Duncan and Tessa. "What I would suggest is keep him in bed, keep him drinking, and try to get him to eat. I would suggest Ginger Ale and chicken soup. As long as he doesn't start coughing anything up, a simple cough suppressant should do the trick. If he gets worse call me."  
  
Duncan walked the doctor out and Tessa went to do her own inspection of Richie. "That wasn't very nice of you," she told him as she brushed a few curls off his forehead.  
  
"When you said doctor I was expecting a guy," Richie shrugged. "And I just woke up."  
  
Tessa smiled. "It still wasn't very nice. Go back to sleep."  
  
. . . . . .  
  
"Where were you yesterday, Joel?" Mitch asked as Richie quietly took his seat the next day at school.  
  
"I was sick."  
  
"Oh, are you okay now?"  
  
"I'm fine."  
  
"Good. Maybe you should come after school for some tutoring so you can catch up."  
  
With the whole class listening Richie tried to get out of it. "I'll be fine."  
  
"I'd feel better if I could explain this to you. Be here after school."  
  
Richie gave up. "Yes, sir."  
  
Richie worked on his make-up work in study hall while he had a teacher to help him. And when the bell rang he heaved a great sigh as he gathered his stuff and prepared to spend the afternoon with Mitch.  
  
"I have to be home at 5:30," Richie said as he entered the empty classroom.  
  
"How long does it take you to get home?"  
  
"Twenty minutes."  
  
"Really? Just to get to Westbrook it takes you twenty minutes?" Mitch looked at Richie with raised eyebrows.  
  
"Fine, ten."  
  
"Then you may leave at 5:15. Now take a seat and get out your grammar book."  
  
From 4:30 to 5:15 Mitch leaned over Richie and explained various parts of speech to him using the kinkiest sentences he could think of as examples. Richie quietly played along repressing his urge to scream. By the time Mitch let him leave he had so much pent up frustration that it only took him five minutes to get home.  
  
"Hi, Richie," Tessa greeted. "Do you want to help with dinner?"  
  
"Not tonight," Richie mumbled brushing past her and going to his room.  
  
"Somebody's cranky," Duncan commented.  
  
Friday, Mitch told Richie to stay after class and gave him an address and direct instructions to be there Saturday morning at ten. So Saturday morning Richie loaded some books into his messenger bag and announced he was going to the library to study because he got distracted in his room and the kitchen was too noisy. He drove off in the direction of the library to appease any nosey eyes and then doubled back. The address he was given had been vaguely familiar when he looked at it and when he arrived he realized why. It was the same apartment building he had spent a couple years in as a child. The apartments where he and Mitch had met. Slowly Richie went up the stairs to apartment 8C and knocked.  
  
"Right on time," Mitch grinned at him opening the door. "Come on in. Put your bag down, take off your shoes, relax, make yourself at home." Richie stood in front of the closed door jacket on and helmet in hand. Mitch just smiled at him and took the helmet and bag. "You must be warm; why don't you take off your jacket?" Richie knew it wasn't a suggestion and shrugged off his jacket and handed it over. "I thought we'd start slow and just watch a movie today." He put an arm around the boy and led him to the couch, then joined him after he put in a comedy movie. The two sat side by side for two hours. When the movie was over Mitch turned off the television and looked at Richie with a twinkle in his eye. "You look so tense. Let me rub your back."  
  
"I'm fine," Richie insisted.  
  
"Nonsense," he smiled at him as he stood up. "Lie on your stomach and let me help you relax a little." Slowly Richie positioned himself on the couch and Mitch straddled him and began to massage the teen. "It's hard through this sweater." He slowly slid his hands under the warm wool and onto the teen's clammy skin. "You feel so hot, why don't you cool down." The next thing Richie knew he was shirtless and Mitch was still on top of him. After nearly an hour Mitch decided he was bored. "So, Richie, what have you been up to all these years?" He asked lying down between Richie and the back of the couch and wrapping his arms tightly around the boy.  
  
"Nothing," Richie answered.  
  
"You must have been doing something. Why did you forge your records?"  
  
"Because."  
  
"What did you do that was so horrible?"  
  
"I dropped out," Richie told him not willing to give him anything more to hold over him.  
  
"You know, you're not being very nice." Mitch's tone suggested he was pleased with his next idea. "I think you need to be punished." Richie sighed and didn't say anything as Mitch slid out from behind him, rolled him over and resumed his straddle. "But I don't believe in negative reinforcement, that doesn't help anything at all. I believe that you can change someone's behavior by loving them no matter what." He pinned Richie down to the couch and leaned in and started kissing him along his neck and face. At first Richie shied away from the man, but soon resigned to his fate and just let him continue his one sided make-out session. "You know what would be fun?" Mitch suddenly asked.  
  
"Leaving?"  
  
"No, come with me." Mitch got up and took Richie by the hand leading him into the bedroom. Richie stood motionless as he rummaged in the drawers and proudly held up bonds that Richie had only seen in prono magazines. "Lay down," he instructed. Richie didn't move. "Lay down, Richie." Richie didn't even blink. "Fine, if you won't play along, neither will I." Mitch moved for the phone and only stopped when he heard the mattress springs squeak. "Now that's better. You have to remember, Richie, I love you, but if you make this difficult I'm going to have to call the police," he said as he secured Richie's wrists to the headboard and his ankles together. "It's more fun if you struggle."  
  
"What's the point? You're not going to let me go."  
  
"But it's more fun that way. And the happier I am the more willing I'll be to let you go home."  
  
"Yeah, right."  
  
"So rude. Didn't your parents teach you any manners?"  
  
"Apparently not."  
  
"I don't like your attitude."  
  
"I don't like you," Richie shot back.  
  
They argued back and forth until Richie announced that he had to go because he had errands to run and he had to be home by six for dinner. Reluctantly Mitch untied him and allowed him to dress and leave.  
  
"Did you get your work done?" Duncan asked.  
  
"Most of it," Richie lied.  
  
"Good. So going to the library worked for you, huh?"  
  
"Library?" Richie repeated. "I mean, yeah. Yeah it was a good idea."  
  
"Do you think you're going to start doing that more?"  
  
"What's with all the questions?" Richie snapped. "It's not that fascinating. I just did some homework!"  
  
Duncan looked at Richie in shock. "I'm sorry, I wasn't aware that talking to you was such a big deal. I was just trying to make conversation."  
  
"I was just trying to make conversation," Richie mimicked back. "Make conversation with someone who cares."  
  
"Hey, I don't know why you're so angry all of a sudden but take it out on someone else."  
  
Richie's mind raced for something to say. He knew he was close to getting what he wanted. "You're just as good as anybody else."  
  
"Except I control your coming and going. And if you want to be able to leave anytime in the near future I'd suggest you tell me what your problem is."  
  
"I don't have a problem."  
  
"Richie, I'm warning you."  
  
"Richie, I'm warning you," Richie mimicked. "Please, Mac. You're not as threatening as you think."  
  
"A mon-"  
  
"Duncan," Tessa interrupted from the doorway. "I need to speak with you. Richie, will you excuse us?"  
  
"Oh, of course," Richie replied with as much attitude as possible. "By all means." Richie went into his room. "Damn!" he hissed. He had been so close to getting grounded. Next time he'd just have to try harder. 


	16. ch 16

Richie had been nearly impossible to live with for the past two weeks. It took all the control Duncan could muster not to ground him. Tessa was convinced Richie's behavior was due to his passage from boy to man. He was no longer a child and was simply trying to discover himself, a process which was more difficult for him than most because he had a secret identity of sorts. He had also decided that he was too old for all the boundaries that had been set and constantly found new ways to bend the rules so he could do as he pleased.  
  
So for Tessa's sake Duncan started small, at first he let Richie get away without a word, then a simple warning, then a lecture, then the removal of privileges but never a full out grounding. which was what Richie was hoping for. Richie wanted an excuse to not be able to meet Mitch after school and on weekends. He was doing everything he knew to drive Duncan insane and couldn't figure out why he wasn't so strict anymore. He slept in, stayed out until an hour after he was supposed to be home, talked back, and copped the biggest attitude he could muster. He was flat out rude and all Duncan would do was talk to him and try to understand.  
  
One Saturday Richie disappeared before anyone else woke up. Duncan snapped.  
  
"He's supposed to work today," he repeated for the ninth time. "Tess, this is not just Richie trying to grow up. I think this is serious."  
  
Tessa's eyes narrowed over her coffee. "What do you mean?"  
  
"I think he's gotten into something serious.I think he's doing drugs."  
  
"How can you say that?" she demanded. "Richie would never do such a thing."  
  
"Think, the mood swings, the sudden rebellion, the secrets, the loss of appetite until he comes home and eats everything he can find. All the signs are there. I don't want to believe it either, but it's getting harder and harder not to."  
  
"Duncan, I agree something is going on, but Richie would never do drugs. He knows better."  
  
"Does he?"  
  
That night Duncan was reading in the living room when Richie came in. Richie was tired and cranky, the sedative Mitch had given him hadn't quite worn off and he was getting less and less accepting of his current arrangement. If Mitch decided it would be fun to tie Richie up and knock him out and strip him one more time Richie was going to call the police himself. All he wanted was to get grounded for a few days so he could come up with a plan and one look at Duncan told him this was his chance.  
  
"Where have you been?" Duncan demanded.  
  
"Out," Richie shrugged sprawling on the couch with his shoes still on.  
  
"Doing what?" Duncan loomed over him.  
  
"Stuff." Without thinking Richie pushed up the sleeves of his sweatshirt.  
  
Duncan reached down and grabbed his left arm. "What are those?"  
  
Richie looked down at the bruises around his wrist and the punctures in the crook of his arm. "Nothin'." He tried to pull his arm out of Duncan's grip.  
  
"That's not nothing. Those are from needles. Where did you get them?"  
  
"I've been donating blood. Le'go."  
  
"I don't believe you." Duncan stared him coldly in the eye. "Tell me the truth."  
  
Richie's eyes darted away. Maybe he should tell the truth. Mitch was blackmailing him and thought it was fun to sedate him so he could do whatever he wanted to him. "Let go," Richie said softly. "You're hurting me."  
  
Duncan loosened his grip and squatted so they were eye to eye. "You're hurting yourself. Just tell me, Richie. Let me help you," he pleaded.  
  
"You can't," Richie told him.  
  
"Of course I can. Richie, I don't know what's wrong and why you thought drugs would help, but we-"  
  
"Drugs?" Richie sputtered. "You think I'm doing drugs?"  
  
"Aren't you?" Duncan asked without a hint of anger.  
  
Richie paused. Admitting to it would be one sure-fire way to end up under lock and key. "So what if I am?" he asked.  
  
Duncan couldn't believe it. "What did you say?"  
  
"What are you going to do about it?" Richie asked slowly gathering courage. At this point he would admit to anything to have an excuse to stay away from Mitch. "You gonna lock me in my room? Follow me 24/7? Kick me out? What?"  
  
For a minute Duncan stared disbelievingly at Richie's defiant face. "Go to your room," he said slowly. "I don't want to hear a sound from you. And keep your door open."  
  
Richie glared hard as he got up and went to his room. He flopped down on his bed and stared at the ceiling. He never thought he would feel so relieved to be grounded. Now all he had to do was keep it this way.  
  
Duncan sat in bed next to Tessa. Both were unable to sleep.  
  
"I don't believe it," Tessa said firmly. "I don't believe it at all. I can't; he wouldn't, I know him, he knows better."  
  
"I don't believe him either," Duncan admitted. "He thinks I do. All I have to do is play along."  
  
"And how are you going to do that?"  
  
"He wants to be grounded."  
  
"So you're going to give him what he wants?"  
  
"No, tomorrow I'm going to apologize and tell him that it's his life. Then wait for him to go off again and follow him."  
  
"And then burst in and catch him in the act?"  
  
"Exactly. Tessa, if he'd admit that he's doing drugs when he's not. he has to be hiding something big. And I want to know what it is. I have to know and this is the only way to do that."  
  
The next morning Duncan knocked on Richie's doorframe. "Can I come in?"  
  
Richie looked up from where he was sprawled on his bed in his boxers. "What do you want?"  
  
Duncan took a deep breath and reminded himself this was all an act. This was not his Richie. "I want to apologize."  
  
"What?! I mean. noticed you were a jerk?"  
  
Duncan had to give him credit; Richie was good. "Yes. I shouldn't ground you."  
  
"Huh?"  
  
"It's your life and if want to mess it up that's your business. You're old enough to make your own mistakes. All I can do is tell you that I think this is the worst mistake you could ever make and when you're ready to fix it you can always come to me. I'll do everything I can to help you, Tessa too. It's up to you to decide when to let us. But the sooner you let us, the easier it will be. So, I know you had plans for today; I guess you'd better get going."  
  
With an unmistakable face of disappointment Richie looked at his clock. "I got a couple hours yet."  
  
At ten o'clock, Richie was at Greg's door unaware that Duncan had followed him. Duncan sat across the street in the T-Bird and watched the clock counting down until he would go in. He had decided to give Richie fifteen minutes to get into whatever it was he was hiding.  
  
"Today is the day," Mitch announced happily closing the door behind Richie. "Today we prove our love for each other."  
  
"I hate you," Richie told him. "Always have, always will."  
  
"Well, I love you," Mitch told him leaning in for a kiss. "One day you'll feel the same way," he added running his fingers through Richie's hair. "And wait until you see what I've got for you!"  
  
"You're sick," Richie told him looking at the brand new bondage set Mitch had laid out on the bed.  
  
"You know you like it." Mitch picked up the pieces and pulled back the bedspread to revile the satin sheets. "Isn't this perfect?"  
  
"If only you were my wife," Richie answered.  
  
"I can be someday, if you like." Mitch went about lighting candles. "Go on, get ready."  
  
Richie set his face in a scowl as he began to undress. "Pedophile," he mumbled under his breath.  
  
"Now, as much as I want you to remember this I don't think that is such as good idea. Now give me your arm." Richie knew the drill and stuck out his left arm obediently. Mitch expertly administered the injection and for the millionth time Richie wondered where he had acquired such a skill. "Oh, you're bleeding!" Mitch kissed the blood away then made a trail up Richie's arm, neck and ended on his lips. They stood, Mitch kissing Richie, until Richie started to sway a little as the drugs kicked in. "Now, come lie down and get comfortable." Mitch gently guided Richie to the bed and sat him down. The satin felt foreign to the boy's bare buttocks. The drugs were kicking in quickly. much faster than the other times.  
  
"What did you give me?" he mumbled unable to do much more than remain in the position Mitch put him in.  
  
"It's something new; I got it from a friend. Do you like it?"  
  
"Bastard."  
  
Mitch just smiled and went about shackling Richie to the bed fastening the chains to the headboard and the leather cuffs around his wrists. He shackled Richie's ankles together and stepped back to admire his work. His eyes came to rest just below Richie's waist. "This is going to be fun," he decided.  
  
"Ass."  
  
"Yes, I do believe I'll be able to turn you over without a problem," Mitch said oblivious to what Richie had meant. "Now you probably still have a few more minutes of consciousness left so I'll give you some time once I get done here." He started at Richie with a set of leather buckles at were all attached to what looked like a rubber ball. At first Richie was slightly curious as to what this thing was, but soon found it was nothing but a kinky gag as Mitch fit the ball in his mouth and fastened the buckles around his head. "You're a little on the noisy side if I remember correctly," he explained as he left the room to let Richie slip into a dark void in peace.  
  
Finally Duncan couldn't take it any longer and crossed the street to the apartment building. He started up the stairs concentrating hard to feel the slight pre-immortal buzz Richie gave off. It stared to hit him half way between the seventh and eighth floors. He walked down the hall pausing at each door trying to figure where the feeling was coming from. 8C. Duncan pounded on the door.  
  
"Richie!" he yelled. "Open up!"  
  
The door opened and a young twenty something man stood on the other side. "Can I help you?"  
  
"Where is he?" Duncan demanded barging in.  
  
"Who?"  
  
"Richie Ryan, where is he?"  
  
The man looked slightly amused. "Do you mean Joel MacLeod?"  
  
"Where is my son?" Duncan annunciated each word carefully. "I know he's here."  
  
"Do you see him?" the man asked glancing around the living room of the small apartment.  
  
"Fine, I'll find him myself. Richie! Where are you?"  
  
Richie was lying motionless in the bedroom unaware that Duncan had come to rescue him.  
  
Duncan opened closets expecting Richie to be hiding somewhere in hopes that he wouldn't be found. Soon his only option was the bedroom. Duncan threw open the door. "Rich." he started to yell but stopped short when he spotted the nude, unconscious youth. Without a thought Duncan drew his katana and turned on the man standing behind him. "What did you do to him?" he demanded.  
  
"Nothing!" the man insisted taking a step back.  
  
"Nothing! You call that nothing?" Duncan advanced on him. "What have you been doing to him?"  
  
"You'd better put that thing away, buddy," the man said suddenly taking on a cocky attitude. "Because I think the cops would be quite interested in what you're doing with it."  
  
"And I'll just explain that you're a pedophile that kidnapped my son," Duncan returned cornering the man in the living room. "What did you do to him?"  
  
"I'll call the police!" the man warned desperately. "I'll tell them about his records!"  
  
"And I'll tell them you've been black mailing him and forcing him to have sex."  
  
"We haven't had sex, yet," the man insisted. "You have nothing on me; it's a couple of liars against a teacher."  
  
"A teacher?" Duncan glared hard at the man. Never in his history had the Highlander been so angry. "Let me tell you how this is going to work. You are going to turn yourself in. You are going to go to the police and confess. You will say nothing about Joel and Richie being the same person.you will not mention Joel or Richie or me. If you do and the police come to get me, the only deal I will cut is that you and I are cellmates. There is no way you can get out of trouble now, face it. I win. Do we have a deal?" The man nodded as best as he could with the blade of the katana at his neck. "You messed with the wrong father." Duncan gave the man one last glare then went to untie Richie as the man sank to the floor.  
  
"Wake up, Richie," Duncan patted the boy's a face a few times before he began to attempt to unbuckle the gag. After less than a minute later he got impatient and sliced through the leather with his sword, unintentionally cutting the boy from temple to jaw in his anger. Unable to see him like this anymore, Duncan didn't bother simply unbuckling the other restraints and simply cut the chains. He gathered Richie's clothes from the corner and wrapped the boy in his overcoat before picking him up. "Why aren't you on the phone?" he asked the man who was still huddled in the corner. The man got up and under Duncan's watchful eye dialed the police and confessed. "I better hear about your arrest on the news tonight. if I don't, I'll come after you. And don't think I won't find you."  
  
Duncan ignored the curious looks he got as he gently laid Richie in the back seat of his car and adjusted the coat. He put up the top and threw Richie's clothes on the seat next to him. He drove home silently, jaw clenched and teeth grinding.  
  
He carried the boy into the apartment where Tessa met him at the door. Duncan carried the still unconscious Richie up to his room and started to tell Tessa, who had followed him, what had happened. Tessa burst into tears as Duncan told her what he had found as he dressed Richie in the flannel pajamas he only wore when told to.  
  
"How could he not tell us?" she asked sitting on the bed next to the still sleeping boy and gently wiping the blood from his face as Duncan unbuckled the severed restraints.  
  
"We'll ask him when he wakes up. My guess is he was being forced into being sedated so that bastard could have his way."  
  
Since both Duncan and Tessa refused to leave Richie's side until he woke up they turned on his small TV to watch the news.  
  
"Our top story today is the suicide of confessed child rapist Mitch Colazano," the reported started with a grin.  
  
"Mitch," Tessa whispered looking at Duncan. "You don't think."  
  
"Colazano called Seacouver police today to confess to forcing students in his class into sexual acts along with other children he used to baby-sit. When police arrived they found Colazano having hung himself in his bedroom where the evidence of his last act was still out. Police collected a blood sample in hopes of finding the child he had been holding. In other news." Duncan switched off the TV.  
  
Tessa looked at the gash on Richie's face. "They have his blood?"  
  
"I added some of mine to the mix, they won't be able to identify him," Duncan assured her.  
  
"Do you think it's the same Mitch?" Tessa asked smoothing back Richie's curls.  
  
"It has to be if he knew Richie wasn't really Joel.I wasn't counting on anyone from Richie's neighborhood showing up at that school; it's the most expensive and it's on the other side of town."  
  
"What are we going to do? He can't stay here anymore; it's too dangerous."  
  
"I have a plan," Duncan told her. For the next two hours Duncan and Tessa devised a plan to removed Richie from danger and suspicion.  
  
"Do you think he will agr." Tessa stopped when Richie moaned and moved a little. It took him nearly five minutes but Richie sat up, still completely out of it and not awake, mumbling something about the bathroom. He struggled out of the blankets and began stumbling toward the wall in the direction of where Mitch's bathroom was in relation to the bed.  
  
"Whoa, Rich." Duncan took him by the shoulders and changed his direction toward his bathroom. A couple minutes later Richie emerged thoroughly confused.  
  
"How did I get here?" he asked.  
  
"Duncan brought you," Tessa told him getting up and ushering him back to bed. "Why didn't you tell us what Mitch was doing?"  
  
If possible, Richie became more confused. "How do you know about that?"  
  
"I followed you," Duncan explained. "He didn't get a chance to." he couldn't say it. "And he'll never get the chance, he's dead."  
  
"You killed him?" Richie asked oddly alarmed by the thought.  
  
"No, I made him turn himself in; he killed himself. But why didn't you tell us? It didn't have to go this far."  
  
Richie rolled onto his side facing away from Duncan and Tessa. "He told me not to. He said if I told his secret, he'd tell mine. And if people started looking into that, then they might find out about Mac. And if they find out about Dad, then there would be all sorts of trouble."  
  
"Richie, you shouldn't have put yourself in that position just for me," Duncan said.  
  
Richie snorted an odd sort of laugh. "No pun intended, right?"  
  
Duncan smiled. "Pun or not, it wasn't a good idea."  
  
"I'm sorry, I panicked."  
  
"And put yourself in serious danger," Tessa added gently sitting behind him and tracing the cut on his face. "You can always come to us, no matter what. We will always help."  
  
"I know," Richie mumbled sleepily. "I just.I didn't know what else to do."  
  
"Richie what you did might have been stupid, but it was brave. I never want you to be brave without asking me first, you understand?"  
  
"You think it was brave?" Richie asked around a yawn and rolling so he was on his back.  
  
"Yes, you didn't think about yourself and did what you had to protect us. That's brave. What's stupid is what you did to protect us. It was extremely stupid," Duncan gently hammered the point in. "But your heart was in the right place. But if anything, God forbid, like this should happen again, don't be brave. Tell us, okay?"  
  
"Okay," Richie yawned again the drugs making a second run through his system.  
  
"Promise me."  
  
"I promise."  
  
Tessa and Duncan waited for Richie to fall asleep, then went to the courthouse. When they got back home, Duncan got on the computer and started hacking. He was familiar with the system, as he had to learn how to cover his own tracks in the system. He changed some dates and added some information here and there. The next day he put the final step of their plan into action.  
  
Duncan entered the busy orphanage with an apologetic smile.  
  
"Can I help you?" the woman behind the counter asked.  
  
"I certainly hope so," Duncan started. "My wife and I adopted a boy from here a little over a year ago and I don't know if you heard but the apartments on twelfth and Woodrow burned down a few days ago.Well we had his file home to fill out paperwork for his new school. We're moving, and I'm afraid they got burned. Is there anyway we can get a new copy?"  
  
"Of course Mr."  
  
"MacLeod, Duncan MacLeod."  
  
"I just need to see an I.D. and what is the name of your child?"  
  
"Richard Ryan," Duncan explained handing her his driver's license.  
  
"Okay, just one moment." The woman disappeared for a few minutes then returned looking slightly flustered. "We have the computer record of the adoption, but it's not in his paper file. We just changed systems and it must have gotten misplaced in the shuffle," she apologized leaving out the part that she hadn't the slightest clue Richie had been adopted. But of course she would never admit it; what kind of social worker forgets a kid like Richie Ryan being adopted?  
  
Duncan smiled. "It must be him; he is forever misplacing anything that gets into his hands."  
  
"Things like this usually don't happen. We are terribly sorry for the inconvenience. But we can have a complete copy of his file for you in the morning. Will that work for you?"  
  
"Of course. Things like this have to happen eventually." Duncan smiled again. "Whenever you can have them ready is fine."  
  
"They will be ready by tomorrow after eleven at the latest. Do you have a number where I can reach you to tell you when they're ready?"  
  
"Um, yes. You can call me at my work." Duncan gave her his business card. "And really anytime tomorrow will be fine. The application isn't due until next week."  
  
"Well, Mr. MacLeod, you are at the top of the list."  
  
"Thank you so much." Duncan turned and left. Just as he had suspected the plan had worked. If it was in the computer it had to be true; Richie had been adopted July of last year just before his seventeenth birthday. Nobody was going to admit that they thought that Richie had been let out of the system because he turned eighteen, what kind of orphanage forgets what happens to one of their charges? Now all he had to do was wait for the call and to show Richie.  
  
AN: okay after this there is one last chap which should be up soon. I am going to work on University Love until I got out of town for 10 days then I'll be back for three, then I'm gone for another five then I'm home. After that I have a sequel in mind for this story. I'll tell you what it's about later. Just tell me if anyone is interested. 


	17. ch 17

Richie slept through Sunday and Tessa refused to wake him for school. He had just woken up when Duncan got back from the orphanage Monday morning. The boy was sitting at the table eating some cereal looking very confused.  
  
"How you feeling?" Duncan asked.  
  
Richie looked up, startled. "Fine."  
  
"What's wrong?"  
  
"Do you know where this came from?" Richie asked indicating the cut Duncan had given him.  
  
"Oh, that? I did that."  
  
"When?"  
  
"At Mitch's. Does it hurt?"  
  
"It's kinda itchy," Richie shrugged. "You did this?"  
  
"I got frustrated with the. buckles, so I just cut if off. I'm sorry, Rich."  
  
"Hey, if this is all that happened to me while I was out, I'm fine with it. Don't worry about it." Richie ran his finger down the cut. "Do you think it's gonna scar?"  
  
Duncan crouched beside Richie's chair looked at it for a second. "Probably not. Are you sure you're okay?"  
  
"Mac, I'm fine. Nothing happened."  
  
"He was telling the truth when he said that you hadn't."  
  
"Yeah. It was mostly watching movies and." Richie shifted in his seat. "Makin' out and stuff. Are you mad?"  
  
"Richie, right now I'm so glad you're okay and he's gone; I don't think I can be mad for another month or so."  
  
"Good, 'cause when I go back to school, I've got detention."  
  
Duncan sighed. "What did you do?"  
  
"I was trying to get grounded," Richie reminded him. "So I, might'a. pulled the fire alarm. to get out of a test."  
  
"You pulled the fire alarm?"  
  
"They didn't call you?"  
  
"I'm sure that's what the conference is about."  
  
"Conference?"  
  
"This afternoon. Think you could handle some time alone?"  
  
"Yeah."  
  
"Maybe do some chores? You know for the whole fire alarm thing."  
  
. . . . . .  
  
Richie ended up with detention for a week. Tuesday morning at nine the orphanage called with Richie's file ready. Tessa wanted to call Richie and have him come home as soon as Duncan got back, but they waited for him to get home after detention. Duncan left the file on the table where Richie wouldn't miss it and he and Tessa pretended to be busy with dinner.  
  
"Can you set the table?" Duncan asked when Richie didn't give the file a second look. Richie got the plates out of the cabinet and stopped to examine the file.  
  
"What's this?" he asked picking it up. "And why is my name on it?"  
  
"That's your file," Duncan told him.  
  
"I have a file?"  
  
"From the orphanage."  
  
"How'd you get this? They won't let me look at it!" Richie was staring curiously at the file in his hand.  
  
"Then go for it," Duncan avoided the question. "It's your life you have a right to know."  
  
Richie abandoned the dishes and sat down to read the file. He started with a wide grin that quickly faded as he read. Soon his face showed nothing but sheer anger.  
  
"Richie, what's wrong?" Tessa asked.  
  
"Excuse me," Richie mumbled running into his room.  
  
Tessa picked up the file. "What is he so upset about? What is in here that he doesn't already know?" She scanned the page Richie had left it open on. "Oh, no."  
  
"What?"  
  
"He's got to be crushed."  
  
"What?"  
  
"His mother."  
  
"What?"  
  
"She's not his mother."  
  
After familiarizing themselves with what Richie thought and what was true, they went to comfort him. He was lying face down on his bed motionless.  
  
"Richie?" Tessa ventured sitting on the edge of his bed.  
  
"Leave me alone," his muffled voice demanded.  
  
"Rich," Duncan started.  
  
"I don't want to talk!"  
  
"Okay," Tessa relented. "Are you going to want dinner?"  
  
"Not now."  
  
"Alright." Tessa and Duncan left.  
  
Nearly two hours later Duncan went into check on Richie who was seated on his bed with papers and books all around him.  
  
"What are you doing?" Duncan asked announcing his presence.  
  
"Joel's homework," Richie answered.  
  
"Don't you mean your homework?"  
  
"No. Joel's. Richie doesn't go to school."  
  
Duncan raised his eyebrows. "You seem to have drawn a pretty firm line between the two."  
  
"I guess," Richie shrugged.  
  
"Are you okay?"  
  
"No. I'm pissed. I've never been so angry in my life." Duncan sat and waited for Richie to continue. "How could they lie to me like that? How could they let me grow up and not know?"  
  
"Did it hurt anything not to know?"  
  
"It hurts now," Richie told him. "How could my parents do that? Just leave a baby at some truck stop to die?"  
  
"To die?" Duncan repeated.  
  
"It said Emily found me at some ungodly time of the morning. What if she hadn't been there? I could have died."  
  
"But you didn't."  
  
"I could have."  
  
"You didn't. Richie, that had to have been a horrible way to find out. If I had known I wouldn't have showed you. I just figured that if your life was in some filing cabinet, you had a right to see it. I'm sorry."  
  
"It's not your fault, Dad. You didn't know." They sat in silence for a few minutes. "Can I ask you a favor?"  
  
"Of course, Rich, anything."  
  
"I don't want to be Richie anymore."  
  
"What?" Duncan couldn't believe what he was hearing.  
  
"Can I just be Joel forever?"  
  
"Richie, do you realize what you're asking?"  
  
"Yeah. I do. I just want to forget Richie Ryan ever existed."  
  
"Why? Richie, you can't just forget your life ever happened."  
  
"Why not?" Richie asked.  
  
"Because it's your life."  
  
"I don't want it. I hate Richie; I don't want anything to do with him."  
  
"Richie."  
  
"Stop calling me that."  
  
"What's so wrong with Richie? Why do you hate him?" Duncan asked.  
  
"He's an idiot and nobody ever wanted him. I just want him to go away."  
  
"And what makes you think Joel is any better?"  
  
"Because he's had the same perfect parents his whole perfect life. He wasn't left at a truck stop, he wasn't tossed from family to family, he wasn't abused or raped; his life was perfect. I want that."  
  
"But Joel would have never existed if all that stuff hadn't happened to Richie," Duncan told him putting and arm around his shoulder. "Richie's life might not have been perfect, but Richie is." Richie looked up at him with watery eyes and sniffed. "Joel wouldn't be anybody without Richie. Joel would just be a name in a computer."  
  
"I don't care. I want to be Joel; I don't want to have the dreams; I don't want the memories; I don't want the pain. I want you guys."  
  
Duncan had never heard Richie be so bluntly honest about himself before. "It doesn't matter what people call you, or what name is on your license. You'll always have the memories and the pain. and us. We love Richie and we love Joel. we don't love either one best, but loved Richie first."  
  
Richie looked at his hands and took it all in. "I still don't want to be Richie Ryan," he decided his eyes still watery but no tears falling.  
  
"There was something I wanted to show you." Duncan held up the file.  
  
"I don't want to see if it's in there."  
  
"You'll want to see this." Duncan pulled out one paper and handed it to Richie.  
  
"This is an adoption certificate," Richie said. "Mine. Who adopted me?"  
  
"Read it."  
  
"Official custody of Richard Ryan has been legally granted to Mr. and Mrs. Duncan MacLeod on this day August 28, 1992."  
  
"You guys?"  
  
"Keep going."  
  
"And through consent of both child and guardians has been given the name. Richard Ryan Noel-MacLeod." Richie smiled slightly and looked up at Duncan.  
  
"So if you won't be Richie Ryan, how about Richie MacLeod?"  
  
"This is real?"  
  
"It's as legal as we can make it."  
  
"You mean it?" Richie's smile grew.  
  
"So, are you okay with this?"  
  
"Yeah," he told him. "I can't believe this is mine." He looked down at the paper. He sniffed, shook his head, and laughed a little. "I don't believe it. I'm holding it and I can't convince myself its real."  
  
"It's real. That's how we got your file," Tessa said from the doorway tears glistening in her eyes. "The night Duncan brought you home, after you fell back asleep, we got married. And then Duncan changed the dates in your file back and added in our information and we adopted you."  
  
Richie sniffed and wiped he's eyes with the back of his hand. "I never understood why people cried when they were happy. now I get it." He looked from Duncan to Tessa. "I know it doesn't begin to cover it, but thank you. Thank you so much. You have no idea." he wiped at his eyes again and laughed. "I feel like an idiot."  
  
"Richie, before you decide. There are a few stipulations to becoming Richie MacLeod," Duncan told him.  
  
"What's a stipulation?"  
  
"Condition. If you want to go through with this, and it's entirely up to you, we have to move. You can't have three identities in one city. If we do this then we have to leave and you can't come back, do you understand?"  
  
"Ever?"  
  
"Not for a really long time. You can't contact your friends, either. It would be too dangerous."  
  
"Why?"  
  
"Because where we move Joel doesn't exist and he never can for the same reasons that Richie couldn't exist at St. Matthew's. There is nothing to blackmail us with anymore. Everything is as legal as it can be from here on out. Your background checks will show the adoption and your real birthday. Your school records are the correct schools the only problem could be St. Matthew's. But that's the only one. But you would have to leave all this behind."  
  
Richie thought for a minute. Tessa went over and sat on Duncan's lap.  
  
"I'll do it," Richie decided.  
  
"Richie, you don't have to decide now. It's a big decision. Take your time," Tessa told him.  
  
"There's nothing to think about. I'll do it."  
  
"I'll tell you what," Duncan decided. "We'll start making arrangements. But if at any time you change your mind just say so and we stay and Joel stays. Okay?"  
  
"Okay."  
  
. . . . . .  
  
Richie lay in his bed unable to sleep. This was his last night in the loft, his last night in Seacouver, his last night in Washington, his last night on the west coast, his last night as Richie Ryan. In the morning Joel MacLeod would be gone forever and Richie MacLeod and his parents were moving to Rhode Island. Duncan had called in a favor from a fellow immortal, the dean of Rhode Island State University, and gotten a job as a history professor. Tessa had decided to open an art store so she could work on her sculptures and still have something to run. Richie had been enrolled at Rhode Island Prep for the spring semester.  
  
They had decided it best to leave as soon as possible so Richie finished his midterms at St. Matthew's Academy and that was the last he was to see of his friends. He couldn't tell anyone where they were going so he, Aaron, and Natalie parted ways with a simple "See ya later." He regretted not being able to tell them he was leaving, but felt this would be the simplest way to leave. He couldn't handle not answering their questions so avoided the subject altogether.  
  
Richie sighed and got out of bed. He went into the kitchen and looked for something to eat. There was nothing. They had already eaten, thrown out, or donated all the food that was in the kitchen. There were no drinks, either. Not that it mattered. All the dishes had been packed up. The entire building was empty except for their beds and the things they needed for the plane trip tomorrow. Other than those few objects, it had all been shipped, furniture, clothes, and possessions to their house in Rhode Island.  
  
Richie wondered down stairs and looked around the store. It looked huge with all the display cases gone. By this time next week, it was going to be a music school. The people who had bought the store had plans to rip out the entire up stairs and divide it into private classrooms. Even if Richie ever did come back, nothing was going to be the same.  
  
Richie went back upstairs and got back into bed. Tomorrow he was going to start the life he had always dreamed of. He was going to have parents who loved him for all the right reasons, even if they were a little strict, a life where nobody knows what happened to him or what he did. Everything was going to be perfect.  
  
AN: The End. Coming soon "Finding Time". The sequel. What happens in Rhode Island. 


End file.
